The Iraqi Roulette

19/10/2010

2010-10-19T08:14:00.000-07:00

Bye bye Mr. Nahash

The urge to write this post, after more than three years, is not the rigmarole that has been going on ever since I last posted, in fact it is as far as it can be from the politicians clawing for the holy throne of Iraq.
No, I have lost all interest in the nature of evil; in fact I do not even keep track of most of what has been going on lately. At the present I am convinced that if you can’t change the whole world, at least change your own world. And I have been doing so in various ways; I have been keeping the promise I made to myself; to only do things I am interested in. I have had my share of traumatic experiences during the embargo, of working in uninteresting jobs, since having a job is better than no job at all; that is over for me, cause once you’ve looked death in the eye you realize that all the artificial “must(s) and should do(s) and ought to(s) ” are self inflicted.
Also, I am reading all the books I was deprived from in previous years; the banned books and all the books I had just heard of or read about before, and take my word for it; there is nothing more rewarding in life.
And the most important thing is that I have been, for the last couple of years, volunteering for charity work (nothing big, just helping a few people at a time), since I moved to a safer place than Baghdad (still in Iraq though). Of course, my helping a few did not make any major changes in the texture of time or being, but it did alter my world.
For months I volunteered teaching others; and … well a difference was born.
Once the projects I was involved in were over, I went back to work, but I am making sure to keep on helping and assisting anyone who comes across my path (as best as I can , nothing significant ) morally and materially, and that is my contribution to the world, and hopefully it will stay so till I die.

I am writing today to say good bye to a childhood icon that was a part of my life and the life of a whole generation. A couple of hours ago, I read that the Kuwaiti actor Ghanem AL Saleh had passed away, and that is why I am writing; to reminisce.
What! Amidst all the crises of not having a government, the explosive situation, may be even a new dictatorship of some sort, and God knows what else is awaiting you, that is why you are writing? Well, yes, once you are forced to leave everything you once identified with behind you , and yet still survive somehow , you realize that the things that really matter are the things you will always carry around with you everywhere ; your memories . They once asked V. Nabokov whether he missed Russia terribly. He said ‘No, all the Russia I need is with me ‘.

Ghanem AL Saleh and his iconic comedy (Bye bye London) is part of a generation’s consciousness and lexicon. I remember how back in the eighties when VCRs were the only escape from the news and the long running “Images of the battle fields at the Eastern Gate of the Arab Homeland” and the president’s visits to his adoring people , Bye bye London was watched and watched and watched. It was a breath of fresh air for all oppressed Iraqis.
Here was a play, poking fun at the sense of Arab self-grandeur and all the hollow patriotic slogans. We all have our favorite hilarious catchphrases by Mr. Nahash and Shari . And we recognize each other as fans when we find ourselves repeating parts of the play in various situations. Bye bye London is like Monty Python to the English or the Simpsons to Americans. Everyone knows what is implied when someone says : Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!, or bring out your dead1, or when someone says : Bonjour, you cheese-eating surrender-monkeys!, or meh .

The play was about Shari bin Jumaa’a , a rich Kuwaiti, who decided to go to London to enjoy what the old colonizers’ capitol has to offer , escaping from his wife Sabacha and his silly daughter. He writes to his nephew, who is studying in London, to meet him at the airport. The nephew, of course, thinking his uncle is really sick brings an ambulance to take him. Shari escapes, in his pajamas, from the hospital and goes to a hotel, and there he meets Mr. Nahash , an Arab tycoon who has been living in the hotel for years, and who is sprinkling his millions all over the hotel’s management staff , especially the girls.
The nephew and his girl friend decide to contact Shari’s wife to come over and stop her husband. The nephew and the girlfriend also decide to disguise, as a number of characters, to protect the uncle from crooks and girls who want to swindle him.
Finally, after loosing a whole lot of money, his daughter being arrested for shoplifting, and getting his heart broken by Janet, his supposedly English girl friend, who is actually the nephew’s girlfriend in disguise, Shari returns home.

That is the outline, yet there is so much more. The hilarious mix ups and the memorable characters are the best till this day. The actor Ghanem Al Saleh ( Nahash ) is a favorite of millions of Arabs . The filthy rich Arab who befriends Shari , and mentors him on the ways of the Engleez , who goes around London in his traditional Arabic clothes , holding rosary beads in one hand and a glass of Campari in the other, and who despite his wealth is still a Bedouin at the core .
Most of the play takes place in the hotel’s bar; Shari and Nahash are mostly drunk, slurring and swaying around trying to score girls at the bar, while talking about everything and nothing, coining catchphrases that still resonate.
Nahash is a living stereotype, a representative of all what is thought to be true about rich lewd Arabs. He pin points all what is wrong with the whole culture.

In Iraq, Bye bye London was very successful, despite never being showed on national TV, in fact it was branded by the government, in a very anticipated way, as a play full of denigration and insults to Arabs, which only emphasizes what the play was all about; here we are defeated in every way , full of ourselves, repeating slogans that only perpetuates a false self-image which no longer works in the modern world (the eighties! go figure), and which is in sharp contrast with the reality Arabs have been living in for a couple of centuries .
I remember in the nineties when I was at college, when the then Iraqi government invaded Kuwait, I was understandably sad, indignant and devastated for many things, but also because…. , well because I loved Mr. Nahash . He was who I giggled at when I was a kid, and whose humor I came to appreciate when I grew up.

Let me share some of my favorite parts:

Nahash introducing himself to Shari’s wife, after she asks him who the hell he thinks he is:
- Me! , I am Nahash ; Son of the mountain, wilderness and wastelands, conqueror of darkness and insect exterminator …

Or this now catchphrase that he says dreaming of a holy war with Israel, after the English trick him into buying a super gun:
- Mark my words; it will be an offensive non- defensive war.

Or ,
Janet says:
‘What is it with you Arabs? all ‘We were once at the borders of China’ this , and ‘ We were in Andalusia’ that , we were grand, we were ….’
Nahash replies:
‘Yes bless you, we are better known as the “Arabs of the verb were and all its conjugations.’

Or, asking Shari why he married such a woman if he has to run to London from her:
- ‘I married her before the discovery of Oil you know.’ Says Shari
- ‘Mine is no better, she is a she-wolf a she-wolf! I tell ya.’ Replies Nahash with fear in his eyes.

Or , how his Bedouin goat- herding vocabulary creeps in every now and then , even when he is trying to speak English ;
He comes back to the hotel after being stood up by a girl, who is now sitting at the Bar:
- Where were you? you betrayer of all covenants, I waited for you in the street till the tendons of legs snapped , don’t you stare at me you hungry goat.
The girl replies ‘Go to hell Nahash! . ‘
- Me? Go to hell , may you drop dead of thirst.

Another example; after Shari’s wife insults him, and tells him to put on glasses, may be that will help him discern people properly, he shouts at her:
- You listen to me you tent without a porch, I may put on glasses and look to the right -he looks to the right where English girls are sitting- and what do my glasses see? , ha … what do my glasses see? Graceful limber gazelles, and then I may put on my glasses and look to the left -looking and squinting at Sabacha and her daughter- what do I see? Ha… Stranded camels and goats. At that point the two women, Sabacha and her daughter, chase him and beat him up, while he ( the misogynist he is ) hides behind Janet using her as a shield.

Or, when he was trying to introduce himself to Janet, who was not interested:
- I offer you my friendship and advise you to accept it, I also dedicate you this poem. This is a poem I wrote in a dark night without a moon, consisting of 1000 verses , may Allah protect you and all those present here from its beginning and protect me from its end .
And the drunken party goes on and on. Ghanem Al Saleh had many other roles, but for everyone he was always Mr. Nahash.

By the way, Ghanem Al Saleh died in London.

9/10/2007

2007-10-09T05:13:00.000-07:00

Abu Jwad the invincible

Written by the Iraqi Roulette

Each of us is responsible

for everything and to

every human being

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Abu Jwad is a shabby, ugly old man. In Baghdad's short winter he wears a beige raincoat, of course, we may call it beige with reservations; muddy would be the correct word. And although, Baghdad's winter usually lasts only for only one month, if lucky, Abu Jwad insists on wearing his coat from the first of October till the first of May. Then he just takes his coat off declaring thus the arrival of summer.

His name is Kadhum. He has no children. And since every Kadhum is a potential Abu Jwad(1), he has been called Abu Jwad since his moustache started sprouting. The name stuck to him till now; now that his white moustache is not the only indication of his advanced years.
When he comes to the café, he has been going to for the last couple of decades; he usually just sits there sipping his istikans of sweet black tea with patience and silence.

He never engages in a conversation, not because he is not friendly, he just does not actually have much to say. Many tried to figure him out, but after trying, they were usually frustrated. And those many, tried to engage him in conversations, not because he looked interesting. No, that wasn’t it; you see there was a legend about him that has been circulating in the cafe for the last thirty years. The legend has it, that Abu Jwad in his time, actually went to college in England;
“What? that old beggar?” people used to say.
“Yes, yes , non other than London Britania , Imagine that! God is omnipotent, isn’t he? ”
“Well, he must be clever then!” these people used to conclude, because there is a firm belief, that anyone who has been to college in London must be intelligent. There are plenty of other misconceptions of course, like all doctors are humanitarians and all engineers are geniuses and … but that is not our subject. After talking to Abu Jwad for less than second, concrete evidence that the man is clueless usually materializes.

His wife left him after two years of marriage -having found out that he was as barren as the Kalahari desert-. So, why else should she be staying with him?, not for his good looks or his wit, that was for sure. And ever since , Abu Jwad has lived alone in his crummy house in Al Sadoon area, which used to be his parents house. He has two married sisters living in two different parts of Iraq.
Abu Jwad had really been to England to acquire an education, it was not an urban legend after all, but he flunked big time.
In the early sixties he was sent by the government to study abroad, after receiving excellent marks in his final high school exams.
If one could only know, that sometimes, little promising achievements are in fact tailor made to ruin the rest of our lives, and that sometimes tragedies come wrapped like presents in successes and accomplishments. If one could only know.
Kadhum was never smart, he just worked hard that last year and received those ominous good marks. It was as if he was given a hat too big for his head.
London was too cold for him and people were so strange over there; Women had red and yellow hair, men had no moustaches and were even prettier than the girls, they ate a disgusting substance they called mashed potatoes, and they boiled every edible thing under the sun.
He failed in every single thing they taught them, and he was so lonely. Because he was doing so bad in his studies, his Iraqi friends advised him to try and get himself an English girlfriend, ‘it helps you know’. Kadhum was never a one to believe in miracles, and he knew that, getting a girlfriend would be impossible with his enormous nose, oily brown face, his greasy black hair and his 5 feet height. So he did not even try.
It is said, that lonely souls find each other in this cruel world of ours, just like a Bedouin finds an oasis. Such a lonely soul was Christine White; a mousy ginger head, with protruding teeth and thick spectacles. She used to sit next to Kadhum during breaks. She smiled whenever she saw him, and her face glowed with joy whenever he smiled back. He told her he needed help with his homework, she was delighted to help. And Although, most of their rendezvous were generally devoted to the accomplishment of the challenging mission, of getting information into Kadhum’s head, it was still love unmistakably.
When he dropped out of college, Kadhum’s father in Iraq, had to paid pay back the cost of his education to the government. At the same time, he circulated a rumor, to save face before the neighbors, stating that Kadhum was not succeeding in his exams -in spite of being a genius-, because the English are carrying out a special policy ‘May Allah damn them all’ against Arabs in general and , Iraqis in particular and against Kadhum to be more specific. Of course they must have figured out what a genius he was ‘those Professors are not stupid’ and may be some of those professors were even Jews! ‘God have mercy on us all’. Many neighbors believed the rumor.
Kadhum wanted to return to Iraq immediately, but Christine tried to convince him to stay and try, but of course, he had to find a job first. He managed to find, to be more accurate, the only place that accepted him was a sausage factory. The workers used to call him Ghandi. Was that epithet based on external resemblance, or was it because he was too peaceful for his on good? Kadhum was unable to grasp the gist of their humor. Many tried to start a fight with him, but that proved to be useless, he just went on doing what he was told to do, not paying attention to anyone.
Christine took things further, and invited him to meet her father. Her mother died a long time ago, and her father , a very ill tempered man, was in and out of marriages constantly , and was drunk more than he was sober.
When Kadhum came over for dinner, it was one of the father’s ‘sober good mood’ times. He was polite and engaged Kahdum in a conversation in which he talked most of the time and took a more active part. After Kadhum left, the father started drinking and said to his daughter :
“If that bloody Paki comes once more, you will have to go”
“ He is an Iraqi, Dad.”
“That is what I bloody said wasn't it?”
Christine did not care much about her father’s opinion. In fact she savored the feeling, that she has a disputable boyfriend, and that she is suffering in the name of love.
Kadhum wrote home that he will be coming without delay, after he was beaten up in the subway by Teddy boys. Christine cried and pleaded, Kissed and hugged him and said she would go back with him to baghdad, to which Kadhum did not object, but suggested that he should return first to prepare the grounds, and she could follow him later.That did not happen. He asked her many times to come, she asked him many times to return, but there was always something that stopped them from doing so.
Years flew by like grim clouds on a stormy winter day. Kadhum got married under family pressure. He told Christine, she understood. The letters grew scarcer, but they never stopped. After he returned to Iraq, Abu Jwad worked as a clerk in some ministry for many years . Under pressure he also, enrolled in the party. He just used to sit in the meetings like a table lamp. Comrade Abu Jwad was never an active member, but his party instructor was so pleased with him, that he actually offered to promote him, so he may become a ‘friend’ (2) in years to come .
“Whose friend?” Abu Jwad asked.
“Well the president's, of course, you are not thinking of refusing his friendship are you?”
“No , but what…”.
Abu Jwad got through the draught of the embargo, with his meager pension, and by selling his mother’s gold and some furniture, He even sold some of the electricity switches to get a bottle of Arak occasionally. Those years passed by, with Abu Jwad being mostly half starving and g half drunk. Mainly he was just Omitting days on the wall as they passed, like a hostage. Christine’s letters were the only marks that made a difference on that dreary wall.
Another thing made a difference in his life. And that was; the arrival of his two nephews, Sa’ad and Ra’ad. They were sent by their mothers in the years of the embargo. When things got so tight, their mothers said to them: “Go to Baghdad, and see if your uncle Abu Jwad can help, you know he has no one to care for, go live with him”.
The two teenagers arrived from the governorates, to conquer the capitol of Haroon AI Rasheed. Their uncle did not object.There was hardly any furniture in the damn house to accommodate them, but that did not stop the two adventurers. Sa’ad was a Shi’i and Ra’ad was a Sunni. They were the same age, they had not seen each other since they were children; they hit it straight away, and became inseparable in no time at all. As time passed by, and after realising that their uncle was as helpless as an invalid, they took control as best as they could. Their treatment to their uncle varied according to occasions from ignoring him completely to sorting him out violently when required.
They both worked in everything in those years. They worked in sorting out and recycling garbage; everything from polythene bags to iron rods. They worked as street sweepers ; they worked as sellers, as brokers in the muddy stock exchange market, as greengrocers… They did that all, without any help from their drunk uncle. They were using the house more like a motel, and even a store for their business. When they were working in the garbage recycling business the place stunk. When they were working as greengrocers, the drunk Abu Jwad used to fall over piles of onions and okra.
After the war, the house was transferred into another kind of store. Sa’ad and Ra’ad looted to their hearts content. They looted hospitals, schools, grain silos and ministries. They even looted Saddam's palaces. Actually, they managed to loot a horse from one of those palaces, and they placed it in their uncle’s bedroom, while he was asleep and drunk one night. When Abu Jwad woke up the next morning , he saw a long face staring at him. He crawled out of bed, under the animal, trying to get out of his room. He was not able to utter a syllable from fear, and nearly had a heart attack. Sa’ad and Ra’ad had just finished sealing the deal and sold the horse to someone, so they just pulled it out, from the room, not even bothering to answer the murmuring in agony old man.
Sa’ad and Ra’ad were not the skinny poor teenagers they once used to be; They were now tall, strong young men, over baked by Baghdad’s ruthless sun, their fists and hearts were hard from years of hardship in the infernal streets, and their eyes were like those of a wolf.
The looting went on for months and months shamelessly. Sa’ad and Ra’ad even eventually, looted the neighboring school, when they had nothing left to loot elsewhere.The headmistress of this school was called Miss Nihaya. She was as big as a two door closet, -no traces of femininity whatsoever -, she was more like a gladiator in a blouse, skirt and head scarf. Whenever anyone greeted her or approached her, she always used to reply with the question:
“Were you a pupil of mine young man or young lady?”
She was once a prominent comrade in the party, and she was once very proud of that fact too. After the war, as a headmistress and all, she was invited many times to attend meetings with the Americans, and that got to her head. She became convinced that she and her Wretched school actually “mattered”.
When Sa'ad and Ra'ad looted her school bare, the neighbors told her, that it was ‘Abu Jwad's scoundrels’ that did it’, so she marched towards Abu Jwad's house and she stood in front of Sa'ad and said:
“ Hello young man, were you a pupil of mine?”
“ No Ma’am, we aren't from Baghdad originally.”
“ Of course you aren’t. I was told you took ‘to put it mildly’; an air conditioner, a heater and a file cabinet from my school. That indicates clear lack of discipline and absence of self control. I will ask you to return the things immediately. Yes, yes immediately.”
Sa'ad stood leaning against the wall, with his arm folded in front of him, and he was starting to get quite amused now.
“Or else?” he asked smirking.
“Or else… -pronounced Miss Nihaya bringing her face so close to Sa'ad's face, that her nose nearly touched his nose- ..or else, I'll bring the Americans right here and we'll see what you and your cousin have to say then.”
“Hey, Ra'ad - called Sa'ad- come over here brother, Miss comrade headmistress here, is threatening to unleash the foreigners on us.”
“Is that so?, called, called back Ra'ad from inside, and came out carrying a rectangular object wrapped in a newspaper. He unwrapped the object and exhibited it for Miss Nihaya .
“I will be more than delighted to give them this little thing, which . I took it ‘to put it mildly’ from your school.” The object was a large framed picture, in which Miss Nihaya was all smiles standing in front of Saddam Hussein, who was pinning a medal on her coat lapel. In the background, other ladies wearing scarves and not wearing scarves were clapping, and little children were dancing, and a banner read: Happy Birthday to you Mr. President, from the members of Al Sadoon party division.
“Let‘s see what you'll have to say to your the new protectors now then, comrade Miss Nihaya.” Ra’ad said smiling sweetly. Being a very sensible old headmistress, Miss Nihaya knew when one should let sleeping dogs lie. She turned around silently and walked away. Sa'ad taunted her as she went:
“That’s right love, you just go back home; Abu Ghraib is no place for ladies, even like you.”
After the spring of looting ended, the two brothers sold all their spoils, and things became tight once again. Of course the pension which they ransacked monthly from their uncle could not cover their expenses for food, cigarettes and Alcohol. The stagnation period stretched endlessly. They were not able to loot and they were not able to get a job too. And looting opened a whole new channel in their consciousness, it was like a wolf having his first taste of blood, one can’t give it up, just like that.
“The answer is gangs brother, everyone is acting in some sort of a gang nowadays. The era of solo acts is over” said Ra’ad to Sa’ad one hungry afternoon. Eventually, they found a gang in which they were instructed to perform light weight robberies, shop breaking and kidnap. As things developed they had to split in different gangs. That did not bother them, as long as money started to flow in its old stream once more.These gangs in due course, became cogs in larger and larger machines. Sa’ad and Ra’ad were paid like employees now, per task. Their duty was to kidnap and deliver mostly, with all what comes with such assignments as a package; beating up, torturing and dumping the corps somewhere safe if necessary.They did not mind of course, but the thing was; that the prices were not as rewarding as they used to be after the war ended. And also, the competition became too strong for them. Many highly qualified contenders were more than willing to go that extra mile and reach much further than Sa'ad and Ra'ad were willing or could reach, , and the ability to cross the line was no longer an advantage.
All the neighbors knew by now what these two yesterday country boys were doing for a living. The good neighbors had ‘that private talk’ with the uncle many times. But Abu Jwad was more concerned for his own safety rather than intervening for some poor soul. He always knew that his nephews were capable of a lot, but murder was further than his suspicion roamed.
Long before the war, Abu Jwad had received a couple of letters from Christine, telling him that she had cancer. Then months before the war he received a letter form some attorney telling him, that he was sorry to inform him, that Christine had lost her battle with cancer, and that she left him, ‘how did he put it’; an unsubstantial sum’. Abu Jwad lamented his lost love silently, with lots of Arak.
The war came, months chased each other, the short periods of sobriety were replaced with longer and longer periods of drunkenness. Abu Jwad did not mind that, he did not even mind his nephews as long as they were leaving him alone, and as long as he could get his daily bottle.
Yet change .. change is the constant nuisance; it comes and pokes you in the ribs sporadically, ruffling your serene existence .
When the kidnap market plunged, and when the detainees literally became more than the kidnapper themselves - the kidnappers, in some reported cases, started kidnapping each other to cover future kidnapping expenses ( fuel, weapons , rent ect)-, Sa'ad and Ra'ad decided to sell Abu Jwad’s ancient house, so that they may add the price to what they have and try to work something out. They did not actually picture what they were to do clearly enough to put in words; they just knew that they ‘needed the cash’. Abu Jwad felt threatened like never before. Without his house what is he ? a certified tramp!. He tried to persuade them, cajole them, swing them to his side, yet alas to no avail.
“Take my whole pension” he begged.
“We are already taking it, you old goat.” they replied acidly.
“I'll try to get you some cash, just give me some time”
“If we sell you, along with all what you represent in life, you wouldn’t bring the cost of a pair of recycled slippers, so stop sulking and let us think.”
Abu Jwad was so upset, that he just could not get himself to shut up. Although the young men were quite drunk, and were not paying much attention to the old man's rambling. They managed to catch a phrase that made sense to them amidst the dark forest of incoherencies Abu Jwad was generating.
They understood that he had inherited a sum from some English broad, he used to know in the olden days, when he was in London, and that interested them. Once Abu Jwad realised he got their attention, he lost control entirely on the lies that he was spewing. He ran and got them a couple of Christine’s old pictures, telling them how the sum, which she left him could actually change their lives.Before he knew it, his nephews were making arrangements for him to collect the money. They decided to send him to Syria by bus being the cheapest way. There were still no postal services in Iraq, and therefore making contacts and following up the money transfer would be difficult, besides it may as well get lost on the way, it would be faster to arrange things from abroad, and then the money may be sent through a bank to Baghdad.
Their attitude towards their uncle changed notably. They even started to call him, when it was time to have a glass of Arak , they also started to look at him, when they spoke to him. After all, it is true, when they say that good manners are the result of common sense.Abu Jwad was enjoying his new status and making the best of it all . He was giving no thought to the fact that he was boldly exaggerating about his supposed inheritance.He did not bother himself thinking about his impending journey, until that day arrived. He even enjoyed it, when the boys helped him pack, and gave him instructions on how to deal with the situation in case the militias or the terrorists stop the bus, they taught him what and when to say the appropriate words, and how to answer the trap questions terrorists or militia men may ask.The truth is; One must admit; they had to be given credit on this matter.
They were the best experts and Abu Jwad knew that so well. Abu Jwad summoned images from the mist of his tired drunken brain, and remembered vaguely, the young men coming in and out of the house on various occasions, dressed in police uniform, army uniforms, as militia men form both sides. Once, they even came in dressed as Americans, with the funky black sunglasses and all.
Abu Jwad remembers well, that memorable day, when the whole lane watched from doorsteps and windows, Sa'ad dressed in black, with a green band around his forehead with prints that read ‘We will never forget Al Hussein(3)', walking back home one afternoon, after some sort of reconnaissance, which apparently required him to dress so, in order to blend with a specific crowds. On that afternoon two men dressed in white Dishdashas, with overgrown bushy beards sticking out of their faces, cut his way and cornered him. One of them grabbed Sa'ad’s arm and said “Salam Aleikum, Safawi(4), today you are going to meet your maker.” Sa'ad shouted at the top of his voice:
“Ra'ad!, brother come , help me.”
Now Ra'ad, who apparently, also had a reconnaissance of his own, emerged form the house wearing a white Dishdasha , with an overgrown bushy beard covering most of his face. A gun in one hand, a knife in the other. The two attackers were more confused than afraid, for they had actually seen that pious brother earlier in their exclusive mosque, shouting ‘Allah Akbar, and death to the Safawis’. They backed off after Ra'ad showered them with bullets, and a plethora of profanities, sufficient to issue a whole specialized dictionary. .…
Sure, Abu Jwad knew well his nephews had been around. Abu Jwad, also remembers, more or less, that night, when the lane was suspiciously deserted and soundless. Then, came the sound that each and every Iraqi dreads to hear. A sound, which is a medley of bangs sounds, automatic robotic shouts of :”Go, go, go “ and sounds of galloping people; some chasing, some being chased .The whole male population of the lane were loaded in trucks in the dark of the that night. All of them , all of them without discrimination, even Sa’ad and Ra’ad were arrested, although, they tried to escape, jumping from one roof to another, which proved to be unwise, since they were caught, and the next thing they felt was the heavy military boots pressing on their backs, before they could make their next move .
And Amar, their neighbor, got caught on that night too. He was a harmless college student . He also, like Sa’ad and Ra’ad, had lost his father in the same eight year war, and he was their junior by two or three years. Amar, was perhaps the only one, who greeted Abu Jwad reverently, whenever they met. A couple of times, Amar tried to convince Sa’ad and Ra’ad to go back to school, and promised if they did so, he would help them with their studies, in reply to that suggestion, the two young men were rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter. He was always studying that kid, reading his head off, as if there were no tomorrow, not wait a minute, as if there were a tomorrow.
When the Americans pushed him in the truck, Amar said in reasonably comprehensible English:
“Mr. Mr ,I have an exam tomorrow, it is final …
“Get in , go go go, you can study in prison” The next morning, Sa’ad and Ra’ad were the only ones who returned from the whole lot . How did they manage to get out? , what did they tell the Americans to let them go? That Remains a mystery. The young men did not share the experience, and no one returned to tell the story, no one at all, not even Amar who missed his exams .Of course, Sa’ad and Ra’ad knew how to make the best of the situation. When asked by neighbors, they gave an impression, that they have connections with a high ranking military official; a sergeant.
Naturally, the women were so eager to get information, they believed anything; they wanted to know how to get to their husbands, brothers, sons and grandpas at any cost.Shortly after that impression was delivered skillfully, Abu Jwad noticed, that trays of roasted chicken and saffron rice , fried eggplants, kebabs and Dolmah, were being delivered three times a day to their doorstep. Abu Jwad ate without questioning, nevertheless, he noticed that when they delivered the trays Sa’ad and Ra’ad were always assuring the women and promising them something. Gradually, as hope shriveled in the hearts of Amar’s mother and her neighbors, the trays stopped coming, they realised, that Sa’ad and Ra’ad did not know any high ranking sergeant.Abu Jwad, who enjoyed the dolmah and all, missed Amar a lot, and he was unable to understand, why was it that, the good ones, like Amar, usually never return, yet these two somehow always manage get away.
Yes…, Abu Jwad knew that these two had definitely been around .
Sa'ad and Ra'ad put their uncle on a bus, with some pocket money and an address for him to stay in the cheapest place they could get. The trip was hard. The passengers were all praying in fear on the road to Damascus. They were stopped once, and three young men were dragged out of the bus, after men in masks took a look at their ID disapprovingly. No one came near Abu Jwad and his rain coat, so he did not need to recite the lines his nephews taught him.
He arrived safely in Damascus to the cheap motel he was told to go to. The next morning, not actually doing much planning, he took the attorney’s letter and headed to a bank seeking advice. A chubby woman was sitting in front of a computer monitor. She had enough make up on her face to decorate a room. Abu Jwad greeted her, and started explaining something she could not have been less interested in listening to.He started right from the beginning, shoving his letter beneath her nose. He started right from the very first day he set foot on the capitol of the Island they call Great Britain, the Island where his heart was stolen and never retrieved. The mere sight of Abu Jwad made the woman feel nauseous. At the beginning she interrupted him trying to be as polite as possible, but since that did not shut the old Iraqi tramp up, she started ranting; the way only, the ladies of AI Sham,( 5) mange to rant. Abu Jwad could not understand most of what she was saying. He knew that his plot was feeble, but somehow he grew into the part, and he too started ranting, accusing her of being anti Iraqi and threatening her to cut the oil supply to her country. He was thrown out of the Bank naturally.An elderly kind Syrian felt sorry for the old stranger and offered help. After Abu Jwad had told him the story in detail, the man gave him an address of a lawyer, who specialized in all sorts of cases related to immigration and asylum . “That lawyer could get anyone into Denmark , Norway,or even Costa Rica” So, Abu Jwad headed there. The lawyer made a few calls, made a few calculations, then advised Abu Jwad to go back home before he runs out of money. The sum is not worth the paper used for applications, and the phone calls and the time “No, Haji, it is not worth it at all” . Abu Jwad went on and on and on talking just for the mere sake of it, not wishing to understand what was being said to him. The lawyer kicked him out.Yet, to his total astonishment, the next morning Abu Jwad was waiting for him in the waiting room, believing that he has some sort of a case. The Lawyer ordered the janitor to throw him out. Abu Jwad this time threatened the lawyer saying that he will complain at the British Embassy “The lngleez will help me, I am sure they will”.
In the British Consulate, one exceptionally polite Brit explained, with all the patience that god blessed him with, time and time again to Abu Jwad that 200 pounds is not worth the time and efforts. The best solution is to find someone in England itself to follow up the issue, which will require money too, or he may return to Baghdad and try to find a lawyer and bank to help him. Abu Jwad repeated the visit a couple of times, till the guard was ordered by the employee to ban that ‘bloody Paki’ from entering the office. Abu Jwad returned to Baghdad not having a plan as usual, he told his eager nephews that the money will reach in weeks through a bank. Their relations remained cordial for a while. Then, as expected to everyone but Abu Jwad, judgment day arrived.
“Look you old snake, we gave you time and money to go finish the deal, what is going on, and how much are we talking about? Ra’ad demanded
“A lot” Abu Jwad said shaking.
“ How much? stop playing dumb”
“20 thousand pounds.” replied Abu Jwad not knowing why.
“Great, you have two weeks to deliver, or else the house will be sold! This country is getting too dangerous, we must think of a way to get out” . said Sa'ad gulping his glass of Arak.
As usual, when confronted with an unsolvable problem, Abu Jwad extinguished his confusion with a glass or two, only to wake up too sick to think , and before knowing it, the next dose of the bitter beverage was due.
One night as the young men were sitting drinking. The bad alcohol got to their heads and did its duty, and they picked up a fight with the drunk old man.
“Tomorrow, go find yourself a kennel to live in. Time is up, this house must be sold.” Said Ra'ad, crunching a cucumber and squinting, from the effect of the drink he had just took in.
“I wont let you, I'll complain” said Abu Jwad, stuttering and slurring.
“Who to?, your late Mommy” said Sa'ad
“To the government” replied the old man.
“Ra'ad did you hear that ? he has not heard the news yet, he still thinks there is a government”said Sa'ad pouring another glass and throwing the bottle, that it nearly hit Abu Jwad .
“To the British” said Abu Jwad involuntarily.
“Why the hell should you go all the way to Basrah, while the American tanks are standing right around the corner? You old freak!” laughed Ra’ad
“In case you do not know, I am a British citizen. If you sell my house, you'll have to deal with them.”
“You what? “said both the young men in one voice thoughtfully.
“You know, this old corpse may not be as useless as he seems, he just gave .. “ said Ra'ad
“Us a rather good idea” Sa'ad completed his sentence.
“Hmmmm” they both mumbled, looking at Abu Jwad hallucinating and wallowing in his own drool.
The next morning they locked the door, so that their sleeping uncle could not escape. The next thing they did was to try and get him back to his senses.
“Now, do you have any documents to prove what you said yesterday?”Abu Jwad felt the deep voices of his nephews smashing his temple. He opened his eyes to find himself tied up to a chair. The old man was petrified seeing his nephews sober resolute expressions.
“In the cardboard tissue box” he said involuntarily.
They found the box and showed him one paper at a time.
“Yes, that is it”
“What is it?” asked Ra’ad with a glint in his eyes.
“It is my permanent residence document, it is like an ID” said the scared old man.
“ And this proves what?” asked Ra'ad
“That I am British”
“No, that won’t do. It is too old and yellow” said Sa'ad
“It does work, I even went to the Embassy in Damascus with it. It is genuine. You can not sell my house, I tell you, they will arrest you.”
“Shut up, they have better things to do. Let us try to find a buyer for you, then!” Said Ra'ad, with something developing in his mind.
“What do you mean?, what do you mean?” cried out Abu Jwad.
“I am not talking to you, I am talking to Sa'ad . You stay right where you are.”
They both rushed out leaving Abu Jwad behind.Many hours passed by with the old man sitting mumbling, cursing and tied to the chair. His heart was beating like an execution squad's drum. He was soaking in cold sweat.
As Baghdad' s orange sun was setting behind the windows, and as creepy shadows were crawling all over the floor around Abu Jwad , as if they were preparing to leap and strangle him , Sa'ad and Ra'ad marched in . They sat down to discuss the outcome of the day. Abu Jwad listened to them attentively, while they were making the final touches to their plan.
“So, we are to say that he is an expert, working with the Americans and the English. He used to live in London and has British documents.” said Ra’ad
“What if they do not accept him? said Sa'ad
“The plan is to sell him to some gang, with his documents. We will not have to deal with the foreigners, that would be the gang’s problem. We'll try to get as much as we can and get the hell out of here” explained Ra'ad
“Right” approved Sa’ad.
“ Wrong, wrong- shouted Abu Jwad -You don't know what you are bringing on yourselves”.
“Look here, you old coyote. You went cruising to all over Syria with our money. Now, it is payment time. Just try to get some sleep, you may have a job interview tomorrow” said Sa'ad.
They got a few offers for their uncle. Many offers of them were not worth considering. Some gangs had no imagination at all. They did not know what to do with the hostage. “No, no man! Let us stay away from those foreigners, we are working locally. What you are saying is too risky” they said.
The young men almost gave up, then one gang seemed interested. They sounded very serious and professional. They wanted to meet Sa'ad and Ra'ad. Their leader wanted to hear their offer first, and he demanded that Sa’ad and Ra’ad were to come alone without the merchandise. So, the they both went to the meeting dressed in white Dishdashas and white head Ghutras, to be as neutral as possible. A man came to take them. He greeted Ra'ad , whom he knew more or less, but looked at Sa'ad suspiciously.
“It is ok, he is my brother” Ra'ad assured him.
“All right, he may come too” said the man reluctantly.They drove towards the outskirts of Baghdad, till they reached an inconspicuous village. They got out of the car and the man led them to an ordinary brick house, he pushed the gate open and they all went in. There was a cow tied with a rope to a date palm, chickens had settled down for the night all over the ground. The chickens were very unpleased, and expressed their feelings so loudly, when Sa'ad and Ra'ad treaded on them accidentally. A one eyed dog backed the chickens and barked with aggravation at the strangers as they stepped carefully trying to find their way in the dark .
They were told to sit down and wait in a room, which was furnished with plenty of plastic chairs, till the chief arrived. Shortly five men entered the room and sat down. Ra'ad opened his mouth to talk, thinking that one of them was the chief. The men made a gesture to him ordering him to shut up. He obeyed. After about fifteen minutes of chilling silence, a man entered with two guards, everyone raised and replied the chief’s greetings.
The chief was in his forties, dressed in a dark suit. His beard was well groomed, and his eyes were expressionless, like the eyes of someone who had too many people to kill for one life time.
“I am listening” the chief said without dignifying Sa'ad or Ra'ad with a look. Ra'ad stated his offer as shortly and clearly as he could. After he finished the chief paused, his pause stretched a little longer than it should. Then he fidgeted and fiddled with his beard.
“So, you are telling me, that your prey is actually an Iraqi? not an Ingleezi? .” He said with reproach in his voice, looking at the man who bought the two young men to the remote village.
“Are you here to waste my time? He went on emphasizing every syllable, fiddling with his beard furiously now.
“Do you think I need you, to get myself an Iraqi? Have you heard somewhere that there is a shortage in Iraqis. If I need to kidnap an Iraqi, all I have to do, is to go out in the streets and load them in buses. The damn place is swarming with them. I can just grab and slaughter anyone, any one, or two like a pair of sheep on an Eid morning.” he said snarling at the two terrified young men, who got the hint clearly.
“No chief, he is originally an Iraqi, but he works with the foreigners and he ... “ said Ra'ad mustering his courage.
“Does he have any documents on him? said the chief briskly.
“Er like... said Sa'ad
“Like, a passport, a picture of him with Paul Bremer for instance. What am I supposed to build my campaign on ? How do you expect me to negotiate? So, he is an Iraqi businessman, working with the invaders, and has all the required documents to prove so. Good, good. Am I missing anything?” he asked threateningly.
“ No, no everything is right” both the young men said assuring him.
“Hmmm, where did you catch him?
”He is a relative of ours. A distant relative” answered Ra’ad.
“Very distant” added Sa'ad
“And why are you doing this?” the chief asked looking at them condescendingly. Now, here is one of those trap questions the young men know so well.
“He is a traitor” they both said in one voice, putting on a serious solemn expression.
“Splendid, you will be rewarded accordingly. So, you bring him tomorrow night, with everything. And I will see how to spread the word and get as much infidels involved as possible. I was always waiting for a hit operation like this. This operation will change our status immediately boys” he said addressing his gang.
The two young men returned home. They were a bit worried. This is not as easy as they thought. That chief guy is shrewd; he did not even tell them, how much he is willing to pay. May be it would have been better just to sell the old man’s house to one of those small groups, they would not ask so much questions. Nevertheless, they decided to finish what they had started , what is the worst that may happen anyway?
The next night, they were dragging Abu Jwad to the dark outskirts. He was tripping as they practically carried him by the arms. They agreed with the same man to meet them at the beginning of the village and he was to escort them. So, they had to do a bit of walking. Finally, they stopped where they were supposed to wait for the man.
“You killers” howled Abu Jwad, as they made him sit down on the cold ground to wait.
“Look here, it is not as if they are going to kill you or something, if half of what you say is true, we may all benefit.” Said Sa’ad ,trying to calm the old man down.
“When have you become like this? If only your mothers could see you now, what would they say?” wailed Abu Jwad
“ Well our mothers said, that you were going to take good care of us. ‘Go ‘they said to us ‘your uncle is a big shot in Baghdad’, and what did you do? you old drunk, you just sat there waiting for us to swim for ourselves.” Ra’ad said looking at the black sky above them.
If only thoughts could be seen, like a motion film inside a cloud above one’s head, a passer by would have seen that both Sa’ad’s and Ra’ad’s thoughts were exactly the same in content. They went back many years ago. Back to when they were both kids walking in the funerals of their fathers, who were both killed in different battles of the same long war. They were not consulted; it was not their choice that their young fathers left without warning, leaving behind their young wives. It was not their choice too, to leave school when they were both teenagers to work. They went back to all those blistering summer days, and all those murky winter days, when they had to grind for a living, while all that they yearned for was a game of football.
Their mothers were also in their thoughts. They saw them, working back then for crumbs, while all that their young mothers yearned for was love, not having yet fully comprehended, that all that was left from their interrupted dreams of love, were two young corpses in a two cheap wooden coffins . Sa’ad and Ra’ad were both seeing in their thoughts fear, fear that pushed them to the limits, they must survive even if their fathers withdrew unwillingly, and even if those left alive withdrew from their lives willingly.
If thoughts could be seen, a passer by could would have seen Abu Jwad’s thoughts too. They too were packed with fear. Fear he had grown so accustomed to, that he did not even question it any more. Fear of interfering, fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of getting in trouble, fear of torture, fear of getting killed… Through the years, all that fear, punctured his soul in so many places, that he no longer had a soul, he just lost his soul somewhere on the way. Now that he reached the end, the fear was still there, but from what exactly?, was he too afraid to die, or too afraid to live?
Abu Jwad got up and ran from his nephews, it was a strenuous effort for him, yet somehow he managed.
“Cut the games you old freak.” Sa’ad said, as his uncle slipped from his grip like a lizard. He did not stop
“Hey, hey lets' go after him it's dark, we may loose him.” Ra’ad said. They chased him and backed him to a date palm.
“Now, now just sit down, and calm down” said Sa’ad.Abu Jwad was using the date palm for his advantage, to protect his back. He was kicking, scratching, and pushing.
He kicked Sa'ad on his knee.“Ouch, what are you possessed or something?” Said Sa’ad in pain.
Ra’ad and Sa’ad both punched their uncle at the same time. The old man collapsed. Yet, his back was still supported by the date palm; therefore, it was as if he just sat down to die.
Was his collapse caused by years of depression and hunger, or the stress of dodging death at every corner, or toxins that polluted every cell in his system ? Was it because he was so afraid that his heart could take no more?. That is hard to say. And whose blow actually ended Abu Jwad? Was it Sa’ad’s, or was it Ra'ad’s. Whose blow was stronger and faster? ? That’s not to be known unfortunately too. Many years may pass by till one may establish ; who was the one who delivered , that fatal ultimate blow .Knowing, that the deal was off. The young men went back home. They left their uncle frozen against the date palm, with a vicious expression fixed on his face, looking like a mad fiend.
A couple of days went by. No one came after Sa’ad and Ra’ad as they feared, so they decided it was safe enough to start looking for a buyer for the house.One night they were sitting drinking, after a busy day, apparently, cause Sa'ad was dressed in black and Ra'ad in white again.Sa’ad was drinking and telling Ra'ad about his day, when suddenly he stopped and stared at some invisible point in the space of the room. He thought he saw something, he shook his head and resumed his story. Then again he saw something. This time he fixed his eyes on the floating figure. It was flying round in circles, then going from one corner to another smoothly. The figure flew straight to the wall to the opposite of of Sa'ad, and then zoomed toward his face. Sa'ad winced and closed his eyes for a second . When he opened his eyes, there the figure was, flying around again . He knew who it was all right. The horrible beige rain coat left no second opinions on that, even if the face was much more pale and translucent, than it used to be. Sa'ad bashed his glass furiously on the wall and yelled.
“ Damn you Kleman! He and his bootleg booze. It is as rotten as he is. You would've thought we were paying him date pips instead of money . I'll show him him!” He stormed out of the house and went to a house around the corner. He kicked the gate shouting.-“
Kleman, kleman! you damn thief ! come out , you cheater”
Kleman was a hefty man, who had worked all his life with drunks. It was never easy to intimidate him. He was not intimidated, even when he was threatened by the militias and had to close his alcohol shop down. He just moved all the bottles he had in his shop to his house, and his customers just had to come to shop from there.
Kleman came out in a vest, pajama trousers and slippers yawning. He was one head taller than Sa'ad and twice as heavy. With his red hair, red moustaches, blue eyes and ruddy face, he only needed a helmet with two horns sticking out, to make him look exactly like a Viking.
“What are you yelling about?” Kleman said rubbing his eyes.
“Kleman, what is the problem? shouted his Mother from inside.“Nothing Mama. Go back to sleep” he said with his sleepy rumbling voice.
“Your booze is moldy. You should be ashamed of yourself. Don't you know who we are?. I can get you and all your Christian tribe kicked out of this area, if I tell you are selling munkar(6)” said Sa’ad in a frenzy.
Kleman unemotionally gathered the front of Sa'ad's black shirt in his oversized hands, and lifted Sa’ad him till their eyes were at one level.
“Listen darling, first, know one thing, wherever you reach I can reach higher. Do you think that you and your brother and uncle, who by they way I've not seen around for a while, are the only ones who drink bitter and sweet in this god forsaken town? Huh? So, don’t threaten me sweetness. Second, Christianity is not a tribe you moron.”
“Let me go,.. you… You thank your lucky stars you are still here. Do you think we will forget the Danish cartoons issue? No, oh no,.. judgment day is coming for all you infidels” Said Sa’ad choking.
“What Danish cartoons? what does that have to do with me anyway? Does this miserable street in anyway, look like a street in Denmark to you? Oh, I see, you are not drunk. You are just insane that’s it .” Kleman said , then he dropped Sa’ad and gave him a kick on his behind that landed him on the opposite door step, then he went back indoors yawing.
If Sa'ad was drunk to start with , now he was as sober as sober can be . He could not get up, so he just lay down there for a while. Not being able to do much, he cheered instead. He started with ‘Allah Akbar’ , followed it with a bit of ‘down USA’, but when he started to sing 'The Sun raised from Al O’oja'(7), he realised that he was just hysterical from the blow, and it is time for him to shut up.
Yes, one very wise man once said ; Arabs are actually a vocal phenomenon.
Sa’ad gradually raised got up and creped crept back home. When he entered , he saw Ra'ad crouching in a corner with both his hands covering his face whimpering. He understood immediately that his cousin had just had the same vision.“There, over there, there he is” he said pointed to the ceiling.Abu Jwad now was zooming downwards and hovering above the boys heads, like a B52 bombing an Iraqi village. He started chasing them all over the house. And eventually drove them out to the street.
The young men were running along the streets of Al Sadoon as fast as their legs allowed them. They ran and ran and ran, they passed houses, closed shops, buildings and farms. They did not even notice when they parted from each other. At a certain point they finally lost consciousness.
They were woken up by the late morning sun and the sadistic morning flies . Sa'ad and Ra'ad both opened their eyes at the same time in different parts of Baghdad. Sa'ad dressed in black woke up in AL Ghazalia with his militia ID pinned to his chest. Ra'ad, dressed in his white, rather short Dishdasha and bushy beard, woke up in AL Sader city.
As they both became aware, that they were in the street and not in their beds, they began to look around. Ra'ad was surrounded by tens of Shia children , women and men. He even saw a clergy man.
“Wait a minute, why is he here? What are all these people getting ready for?” he thought. His eyes automatically went to see what he was wearing.
Sa’ad looked around him to find himself surrounded by men in masks and a Camera pointed at his face, his eyes went automatically to see what he was wearing, and to the ID he had on his chest .
“Wait a minute, no, you wait a minute, I am under cover, I am in disguise”
“ Sure you are, sing us another song, will you “ the crowed replied.
Yes, there are many misfortunes in life that are much, much, much worse than death. A militia man in AL Ghazalia , and a Wahabi in AL Sader city! Life could not get any crueler.

Epilogue
That was not the last time Abu Jwad was spotted in.One morning in Damascus, a chubby lady, who was a bank employee at the same time, sat in front of her computer monitor to type something. She switched on her computer and on the screen appeared an old man's face; the face was sticking it's tongue out, wiggling it' s eyebrows , winking and smiling revealing no teeth at all. The image zoomed away showing the old man in full size wearing an awful raincoat.The figure was busy doing the Chobee(8) dance. Then it suddenly stopped and approached , started to come closer and closer , and then it looked in a threatening way and started to unfasten its raincoat. The chubby woman switched the computer off immediately. She ran and took a leave from her boss. When she got out in the street, she took a deep breath of the Damascus jasmine perfumed air.
“The bastard, I think I am pregnant. He did it again. The only thing that lazy jerk is good for is getting me pregnant. Six children and he did it again.”
One afternoon, an exceptionally pleasant employee in the British consulate, was sitting gazing from his office window. He saw this scruffy figure smelling the flowers in the garden. The employee stood up and moved closer. He recognized that old man. He ran outside, and the figure was gone. He returned to his place and there he it was again, smelling flowers , making a flower wreath and wearing it on his its head. This happened about three times. The employee finally went to the guard
“Yosif, did that Paki come again today?” he asked.
“What Paki Mr. ? “
“You know, that one who kept coming in, and asking stupid question, you know the one I told you to ban”
“Oh, you mean that Iraqi old man, no Mr. I never saw him since.”
The pleasant employee kept seeing the old man on various occasions, but never talked about it to anyone, Sanity is sometimes rather important for diplomats you know.
Also, the lawyer, who could get anyone out of anywhere, was chased by a mysterious flying old man, on several occasions, on his way back home returning from the places of his nocturnal dates with his many mistresses . The old man actually pushed the lawyer over a couple of times, into dirty water puddles, an accident he could not provide a logical explanation for, in spite of being the eloquent lawyer he was.
And finally, in a small graveyard just outside London, the old groundskeeper, told his mates in the pub one night that he is seeing a ghost in a raincoat sitting beside one particular grave every night.
“He just sits there weeping and knocking on the headstone.” he saidThe groundskeeper kept seeing that for a while, maybe a month or two, until once, as the ghost knocked as usual, and another ghost came out of the grave.
“They both held hands and danced all the way up to the sky.” he told the pub guests in a shaky voice.
“You don't go telling stories like that mate, someone may lock you up” his mates advised him.
“All right, I won’t.” the groundskeeper said looking at his glass in fear.

In a very different level of existence, in a place called Baghdad, a place that was still enduring it’s painful debilitating form of life , a place which looked bleaker than the English graveyard, dawn had arrived once again . A cool breeze blew, reminding the people, that there is a God above, and he has not completely forsaken them. Families were waiting outside the high concrete walls. Then about thirty scruffy men were let out of the gate and they scrambled towards there loved ones . Amar limped slowly carrying a note book with him, he was squinting in pain. His mother spotted him and she went towards him. He could not bring himself no matter how hard he tried to look her in the eyes . She held his chin and said :-
“Look at me my soul.”-
“I tried to be a man … but… “ he said looking at her for less than a second, then lowered his eyes again.-
“You are , you are a man, more than any of them in that cursed prison.”
Behind Amar’s back the mother saw prisoners kneeling and kissing the dusty ground, others were shaking their fists and spitting at the building they left behind .The mother kissed her son and made him rest his head on her shoulder. His nose touched her tender neck. As he took a deep breath of her familiar scent, he felt safe again, no army could take this scent away from him. He sobbed loudly .-
“There, there my heart , don’t you cry, leave all the crying to me, I have enough tears for the both of us “ said the mother .
She led him away. With all the others, they walked towards the sun; that cruel cruel sun, that blazed again and again stinging the wounds of the prisoners and their families. Trails of blood drew demonic mocking images on the dust behind them, as they were heading to the insatiable grinder, from which there seems to be no escape.

All the events and characters in this story are fictional,
and are the product of the writer’s twisted imagination

(1) In Iraq, when a person has a son or a daughter, he is called, as a way of celebrating the appearance of children in our lives, by the name of the child , for example you have a boy, you name him Ahmmed , from then on, you are called Abu Ahmed , which means the father of Ahmmed . or Um Ahmmed; the mother of Ahmmed. Also , as a form of anticipating the arrival of these children, every name is linked with a readymade son’s name, for example, Kadhum is Abu Jwad , Ali is Abu Hussien , Tareq Abu Ziad etc.

(2) Friend , was an honorary title, the party gave to devoted members , meaning the friends of the president . This title was invented sometime in the eighties.

(3) Al Hussien , the grandson of our prophet . The lord of all martyrs we call him, he sacrificed his life trying to defend Iraqis , who called for his help, as a result he was killed near Karbala. He is a symbol of peace , valor and honor to all Muslims.

(4) Safawi referring to the safawi kingdom of Iran.

(5) Al Sham ( Syria, Lebanon , Palestine) (6) Munkar, refers to all despicable deeds.

(7) The sun rises from al Oaja is a line from a famous song praising Saddam Hussein comparing him to the sun that raised and shined from his native village of Al O’oja (8) Chobee, A traditional Iraqi dance

10/5/2007

2007-05-10T06:12:00.000-07:00

Once more hanging a name on a number

I know I am taking this war way to personally, but aren't all wars personal in one way or another?
Another dear friend of mine was murdered a week ago. He was in his mid sixties and he worked with me for a few months. One may contradict here and say that a couple of months do not exactly qualify him as a "dear friend". Well in reply I would say that sometimes people with whom you have spent years can hardly be called friends or even acquaintances without reservations. While a conversation with someone you have met for the first time can sometimes change the course of your life.

I won't start sulking and sniveling and telling you how devastated I was to hear about his murder, which of course I could do easily, since I am becoming weaker and weaker with every new blow. I am just going to say that the murder of this man showed me that you may be as cultured and educated as you wish, yet it only takes one barbarian to put an end to all that consciousness you have managed to muster throughout your whole life.

He belonged to a generation that we Iraqis all know so well. The generation, that was in its prime during the late fifties and the early sixties. The generation that was sent abroad to learn the ways of the foreigners " El Ajanib", so they may return afterwards to Iraq sweet Iraq and help in the creation of the good life.
When that generation returned to Iraq from Europe they were all called " Thawee Al Kafa'at" which means " those with high qualifications ".They were scattered all over universities, ministries , hospitals and factories. And while that generation was naively busy dreaming their heads off, the devil had better plans for Iraq. And you know the rest of the story :Those plans worked and the devil won the round with a blow, which Iraq is still bleeding from heavily till this very day.
Many representatives of that generation were killed during the eight year war. Many were arrested or driven out of the country, others survived it all to get slaughtered towards the dusk of their days, just like my friend.

I won't tell you what an enlightened educated man he was neither, and how optimistic he was when Saddam was finally conquered, and how desperately hopeful he was - like only a sixty year old could be- when he clung to the idea that democracy is not only a fairy tale, and that it could actually be achieved in Iraq . And I won't even bother to tell you how he refused to believe what was happening when hell mouth broke open in Baghdad .

I will only tell you that I will always remember him coming in to the office one morning with a plastic bag full of books for me, after having a discussion the previous day about our favorite writers . He liked the " Angry young men " wave. I knew a bit about them especially Wilson and Amis, but he gave me so much more information. And as extra material for me he brought along with him: " A room on Top" , "Look back in Anger" and -his favorite one- as he said "Saturday night and Sunday morning ".The book was an old paper back edition with the picture of Albert Finny on the cover.
'Oh wait a minute, Albert Finny was the one from Big Fish, right?' I asked.
'Yes , he is simply the best. I used to go and see him in plays when I was in England, later he started appearing in movies . A giant, a giant! Such a great actor' he said.
'You mean you have actually seen Albert Finny in real life ?' I said with wide eyes .
'Yes , he was so young back then, so was I by the way. My God, time is merciless ' he said and then followed his sorrowful reminiscence with a traditional English "Bloody Hell" .

He was transferred to another department in another office, but I kept in touch with him and often used to send him my regards. I was always delighted whenever he came over to our office for one reason or another. He was always sober, well-informed, and.. Yes optimistic.

I was told he was killed on his way to Syria . He and some other passengers were stopped by some group and forced out of their bus and executed .
When I heard, I was not angry or afraid like usual , I was just genuinely and deeply sad . I tried to push away the sadness by blaming him for not taking a plane. That technique failed completely. Who knows what his reasons were, so I gave in to grieve and cried for hours.

I remember he used to often tell us about his college days in England . Once, he told me and the others about the time when his English friends suggested that he and another friend from Africa should take dance lessons; " to help them blend in the era of the swinging sixties obviously " .
He told us how a middle age English dance instructor was assigned for this "mission impossible" :-
' My African friend was doing really well . He was a natural born dancer. In no time at all, he was floating around the dance floor with our teacher in his arms, looking like a handsome black panther. While on the other hand , I was like a drunken bear. I trod on the poor lady's feet with every step I made, and I was totally out of rhythm :
' Please Abdull… listen to the music when you are attempting to dance !" she used to say with watery eyes from pain . And the real tragedy was; that I was actually enjoying myself.
After a week or two she refused to train me further :
' Abdull..! there are two types of people : Dancers and you! ' , she said .
And that was the end of my choreographic ambitions, such a pity! don't you agree ? . When I was leaving I saw her standing outside with her husband. The gentleman was holding her hand comforting her, while she was telling him something . As I passed by I heard her whisper to him:
' That's him , That's him ' .
' Ah ' , her husband said looking at me with restrain .'

Those who killed him may have never ever held a book in their hands, or may have never ever listened to a tune of music.
I remember when I showed him a few of my stories , he said : ' Good , good , but why is there so much fear in your work ? huh? '.

When I think of those last minutes of fear in his life ; when he and the others were taken out of that bus , when those guns were put against their heads, I just black out.
Now I think of him and find myself wondering: Did the feeling of the gun's cold malicious metal against his temple send him back to England on a Saturday night and Sunday morning ?

19/2/2007

2007-02-19T00:14:00.000-08:00

my death bells ring and shake my veins,
and in my blood a longing darkens
for a bullet which deadly ice
might tear through my soul in its depths
hell setting the bones ablaze.
………. My death is a triumph.

Death and The River
By Badr Shākir al-Sayyāb

The day I died

A story Written by the Iraqi Roulette.

2005

I dedicate this story to all those who were in the wrong place in the wrong time.

I heard the sound of the explosion and saw the blinding blaze. I gasped and closed my eyes. I think I shouted, "Oh, God save us", so did the other people walking in the marketplace. I heard their voices, and I felt the fire puffing in my face. But all that did not take more than a second. I tried to open my eyes, or utter another sound, yet that seemed unimportant at all. For the feeling I have now is incomparable. There is just no need…, no need at all to open my eyes or scream. There is only surrender, sweet surrender.

It is a feeling beyond words; when your eyes are closed, yet you can see. When your voice can not be heard, even if you scream, yet you can hear everything else.
Is this how death is then? Death? Is it possible that I have actually died? Has the thing that I have spent my whole life postponing finally happened?
Have you tried this feeling? No, of course you have not, you are alive. It is a feeling as if you are neither awake nor asleep. And my heart, my poor poor heart, is brimming with the feeling of beauty. Beauty bringing me to tears.
I remember that my voice faded away with all the other voices suddenly, not gradually, but straight away, just like what happens when electricity is cut off from an apparatus. After I had been one among others, my voice heard with their voices; my figure seen with other figures in one picture, I became all by myself. They all used to be with me, now I am completely alone, not only in this street, or in this country, but alone in the whole universe.

Someone told me, that the events of one’s life passes before him the instant he dies.That is not how it is exactly.
The moment I died, or when I realized I was alone, I had two questions occupying my mind persistently. The first: Did I say, “I witness that there is no God but God, and Muhammed is the messenger of God”? Yes, I said it. I did not actually pronounce it, but I said it with my heart and mind. Not before death, since I did not know yet that I was going to die, when I first heard the explosion. I said it when … when I repossessed my thoughts.
The second question was, what did the man who was drinking tea at my stand, say? I did not hear what he said and that bothers me.

Yet, the feeling of beauty that imbues me, and the feeling of love that fills my heart is enough to cover the whole world's need of beauty and love. This feeling is enveloping my whole life, and even my death. Everything seemed so beautiful; everything seemed to have ended so well. It does not bother me, that my wife and daughter are now alone, and that they have a whole harsh life ahead. Not at all, there is no need at all, there is no need for any sadness or fear, no need at all, and it will all be all right.
All the suffering, she and her mother will have to endure seems so small comparing to all the beauty I feel right now. If only I had this feeling and this certainty when I was alive! I could have toppled all the governments in the world, not just our government. I could have walked welcoming bullets with my bare chest. Is this the thing I have been afraid of all my life? Moments ago, I was cursing the heat, and foretelling danger, because of the Americans standing over there, "someone is going to hit them" I was telling myself, and I was right. But, that is really not important any more.
There is only serenity and love to feel now. Love is devouring me.

I love my daughter Haneen* . I saw myself with her on that day when I was alive, selling tea. The rain was pouring. People were scrambling. There I am in my usual corner in the market washing my istikans**, getting ready to go home. Haneen was doing her rain dance. My friends with their merchandise spread on the pavements, were all standing watching her and applauding. She knew them all; she used to help me collect the empty istikans from them. There is Haneen with her wet, short black hair, her eyes as black as olives, and she is wearing that little white dress of hers, the one with the little flower prints. She is bouncing from one puddle to another, filling the street with giggles like a little robin caught in a rain shower. She is landing in the puddle so strongly, that the water splashes violently, and then she bursts in laughter with all the others. After the laughter stops, she looks at the sellers and me quietly, and then she does it all over again jumping to another puddle. Anyone who saw us for the first time, used to think that she was my granddaughter, for I looked like a seventy-year-old man.

I love my wife. I see her now; there she is sewing, the other time baking, the other giving our women neighbors injections when needed, another time selling things from the house. I see my marriage, not my wedding, my marriage. After I returned from the front, with one leg, I married a neighbor of ours. She was a widow. I saw myself and my wife looking in each others eyes.What we had gone through in the past didn’t matter anymore. We decided to fall in love and we did.

I see myself when Haneen was born. I see my mother’s livid face and her saying : "Such a pity, it is not a boy, if only it had been a boy, you could have stood up tall son, your wife is no longer a girl and you are not healthy yourself . You may not have time for another go..., if only…” . While I that day could not see my way from all the tears of joy that gathered in my eyes. I was so happy.

I see Haneen when she started to understand and say her first words. One day when I was alive, I was lying down taking a nap after lunch. She came with her curly hair looking like a doll, she planted two little kisses on my closed eyes; a kiss on each eye. That picture lived and lives with me till ... till this day.

I love my friend. I see myself under heavy bombardment. My friend is soaking in blood. He is not moving. We were hiding behind sacks of sand. After the raid stopped they ordered us to withdraw. I ran to my friend. There was another soldier kneeling by his side trying to take my friend's anorak off. I threw myself on the soldier, choking with my own tears. "I just thought I may take it instead of them, my one is tattered" the soldier said, shocked by my attack. I took my friend's anorak off and gave it to the soldier. My friend's face was so blissful, as if he was enjoying a dream, or may be he was seeing what I am seeing now. I carried him on my back, praying and talking to him, as if he could still hear me, all the way to the back lines.

I see myself at the hospital, for the first time looking at my amputated leg. By my bedside, were my mother and father peeling oranges and wearing a brave expression on their faces. My father was telling me old stories, laughing loudly supported by my mother. They were babbling nonstop, trying their best to avoid any awkward silence that may impose itself. Each picking up where the other ends, with a smile more like a facial spasm than a smile. That was just before the war ended. I became an invalid and then the war ended after one month.

There I am too, with my cart selling at one time sandwiches, the other time popcorn, the other time crisps. In all the areas of Baghdad you are able to name: Bab al shargi , Alawi al Hilla garage, Al bayaa , Al Mansour … wherever I could find an extra crumb I went. Here I am selling tea. I sold tea for a long time. I used to take Haneen with me when she was four and five, so her mother may work too. Haneen used to help us whenever we needed.

I see myself with Haneen, and my wife is handing us tea, sugar and cardamom packs. Haneen is giving me her little arm to help me. I don’t remember anyone teaching her how to help me, but somehow she always used to run from side to side giving me anything I needed. Oh, the joy of all that. Even when she started school, she used to tell me that she misses me, and could not wait to come back home to me. I am so grateful for all that love.

I see myself with my parents carrying our baggage going to (…. ) when the second war started . All the relatives in Baghdad went over to other cities to trick death. We went to our uncles who lived in a village in the south. There we were safe. We used to hear far away explosions and that was it. Yet, after two weeks on a rainy day, we saw hordes of people coming towards the village. We stood at our doorstep, watching cars crawling slowly. At the sides of the same dirt road, hundreds of people were walking under the rain. The rain was pouring as if rivers were flowing from the sky downwards. Water from above and muddy water the color of coffee was running beneath their feet. Feet wearing shoes, feet wearing slippers, bare feet, small feet, big feet, old feet, young feet, men's feet, women's feet, children's feet… were all kneading the clammy mud. How could so many people make so little noise? How could they not utter a sound? The sounds of far explosions, the roaring of car motors and the sound of running water were the rhythm of that doomsday symphony.
There comes a family of our relatives from the town. When they all got out of the vehicle; there were fifteen of them packed in the old pickup truck. We asked; "how did you all manage to fit in that car, it is impossible?"

"Fear, fear is the miracle maker." their son who was driving replied.
They told us that leaflets were scattered on them from above, informing them to get out and stay at least 3 Km away from the town, because chemical weapons are going to be used to purge the town from traitors hiding somewhere. The entire town rushed out heading to villages, whether they had anyone to go to there or not. Chemical weapons were not used eventually. That does not mean that there were no scars. Fear scars were much worse than chemical weapons scars.

I see myself after returning to Baghdad. I am married now. I see myself afraid. I am not able to sleep at nights. Here I am counting every single Dinar, not understanding how a hundred Dinars is not enough anymore to buy a kilo of anything.
Now, I do not feel hunger nor fear, even my then fear seems silly and sweet just like children’s fear from a monster that exists only in their heads. How could I have not known all this peacefulness?

I see myself at my father’s death-bed-side. He is telling me what he always used to tell me: "Life has been so unfair to you son". When we carried his coffin through our narrow lane, with all its crumbling from time and wars houses, it could not hold all the good people who came to say farewell to him. My father looked like a skeleton clad with thin worn-out skin. When we washed him for the last time, my uncle said to him: "We commend you to God and his messenger."
"Take a rest father" I said. Did he feel the way I do now? , I hope so.

The wind changed, and the scales were imbalanced once again. We did not know whether we were awaiting good or evil.

I see myself with all the sellers and the buyers, the porters, the beggars, with all the children walking with their hardened black feet, as they push their carts through packed markets.

I see the oppressors and the oppressed. I love them all, so little do they know, I feel sorry for them. Why should they fear, Why should I be afraid? After all this peace, I have experienced. If I am to go now, I am safe, my mother, my wife and Haneen are all safe too. My life from here seems wonderful and precious, every moment of it. Their lives too will seem precious when it ends. Yet, I have two questions occupying my mind persistently. The first: if I am to return, will this feeling of safety remain with me? or will it desert me ?
The second am I dead or not? I am waiting to know.

______________________________________
*Haneen is an Arabic name which means nostalgia
** Istikans are very small glasses used to drink tea in Iraq

11/2/2007

2007-02-11T11:19:00.000-08:00

To civil war or not to civil war, that is the question !

I think this tragic period is coming to a climax. Naa, just kidding, cause we've said that before . Whenever we say that things can not get any worse , fate surprises us sticking out it's tongue saying 'Guess what! it can! .'
We have been talking for ages now about the tragedy of people being driven out of their houses . Nobody mentioned it till ; ta daaaa, we have ,over night, 1 million displaced Iraqis within Iraq. It is a tragedy beyond words. Imagine having to leave your house and everything you ever worked for behind you and run for your sweet life. Thousands and thousands of people are in the middle of nowhere, in tents living in appalling situations, within Iraq I repeat, cause not everyone has relatives in the south or the west of Iraq. Shias and Sunnis just happen to live in Baghdad -for generations now- , and they do not necessarily have backup relatives in other parts just in case the whole country goes berserk.
All that has been going on for quite a while, but now that they are talking about it all over the world, our lot over here start to take sudden interest, in other words, when a foreigner brings it up , then the officials take the trouble of looking in to the situation. And will they a actually help the people? or will they neglect them again once the smoke clears. In fact many people are starting to accept the whole situation and are dealing with it as a matter of a fact. What else can you do! when they come for you, you have to move and do not try to be a wise guy.
A friend of my father was driven out of his house last week . No big deal you may say, it is happening every minute in Baghdad these days . Well, that is not the news actually. The news is that he is a Sunni and has been driven out by Sunnis . How is that? Well, he had a Shi'i neighbor, who was threatened and had to leave his house, So my father's friend helped him move and promised to take care of everything for him till things get back to normal. And he agreed with this Shi'i friend to bring a Sunni tenant for him. That is a procedure widely followed now, to insure that the house is at least in trustworthy hands, instead of being invaded by total strangers . Then a week ago masked men came with guns and knocked the door on my father's friend , ranting and raging .
- 'What did I do?' he asked them .
- 'You helped that so and so,why did you do that ? why are you sticking your nose where it does not belong?' They said .
- 'Look I am a Sunni just like you and …' he said trying to calm them down.
- 'We know that, and we know you are the one who brought a tenant. How dare you bring a tenant whom we do not approve of !' They interupted him.
- 'He is a Sunni, you want a Sunni area , so what is your problem?' The man replied sensing the danger more and more.
- 'You and that new tenant of yours, must clear off by tomorrow morning or else' the threat was clear enough.
Of course, the men packed and went to another area . That proves that people of that sort do not have a strict moral agenda . May be they wanted the house for themselves or to store things in , and my dad's friend unwillingly interfered with their plan, I don’t know .
That is mostly what happens when a thug is responsible for your safety. Most times it is even worse than the danger you are being protected from itself. But the people are not to be blamed . With no one else to protect you, no reliable police, no law someone is bound to step in to do the job and fill the gap . People once more, as it happened before in history of Iraq, handed over their freedom in exchange for protection.

Yesterday, on the news they said that the new security plan is a bit behind schedule-wait a second and allow me to wipe my tears and get a sip of water cause I am choking with laughter - Schedule! . And that is not the worse, they also said that they were behind schedule cause they could not agree on which areas they are to start with , Shi'i areas or Sunni areas , that was actually reported on the news .

Also, I saw an interview yesterday on AL Hurra with AL Alawi, a prominent historian and philosopher . It was really depressing, yet realistic . He said when asked about his predictions : 'You can not stop a tumbling rock from a high mountain, and building dams once the typhoon stars Is futile' . When he said that I wanted to chew my pillow from frustration .

When I went to the office today , we exchanged the weekend's news as usual . I really get worried about Abu S... since his area is often hit with mortars. These days he is really busy, cause his grandchildren are taking their exams. Abu S... got more involved in their lives since their father ( his son S...) was killed.
I was updated that my Boss' neighborhood was searched by the Americans during the weekend . Abu S…'s neighborhood was searched by the Iraqi Army . My Boss said they searched the whole street one house at a time . My Boss, being a sophisticated man, speaks English, Arabic and Swahili so did not need a translator, he answered all the questions all by himself . He said that they searched quietly and left after thanking him.
Abu S… said that he was fast asleep when the Iraqi Army came to search his house.

- 'I always cover my face with a blanket when I sleep, so I couldn't hear anything . Apparently they searched the rooms downstairs and the roof and then they entered my room' He told me when we were taking our break .
- 'And you were asleep in the middle of all this?' I asked him curiously.
- 'Yes , they found our gun and asked my sons who it belonged to . My son said it belongs to the Haji . So the officer said to him 'And may we take a look at this Haji ?' My son said yes and removed the cover from my face then I woke up .'
- 'My God you are a light sleeper aren't you? And what did the officer do? did he run out the room or scream, I mean how did he react?' I said pulling Abu S...'s leg as usual.
- 'Why should he ?' he answered frowning .
- 'Well, you say you were asleep which means that you did not have your false teeth on, so his fear would be understandable ' I said .
- 'You are making fun of me huh?, for your information I was once a very handsome young man that’s how Um S… fell for me.' He said laughing .
- 'Yes I remember, that was when Moses split the river wasn't it? I remember you and Um S… were dating back then.' I said making a reminiscing expression.
- 'Well lets see you when you are all wrinkly and old.' Abu S… said raising his eye brows .
- 'Oh, you are an optimist after all . Do you think that I am going to live till I reach that age? With all this going on . I don't think so Monsieur, besides I am not that young any more'.
-'Comparing to me you are' he sighed .
- 'Anyway, isn't your area any safer with all that searching ' I asked him .
- 'No, not a bit , and your area?
- 'From bad to worse. Our street is practically empty, it is just us and two other families . You know what most are doing now? they are preparing their essentials in a bag just incase one has to run . I tried to do that the other day , but I could not make up my mind what is more essential to me .' I told him as I gazed from the window
- 'Don't worry, when the time comes, you'll find that your dear life is the most essential thing to carry with you .' he said warming his hands on his stove .
- 'Yep' I agreed

22/1/2007

2007-01-22T09:29:00.000-08:00

Don't you just love it when it's windy!
It is as if nature is suddenly all eventful and thrilled about something. With all those Cotton-wool clouds chasing each other playfully around a pale blue playground, all the trees chanting only for you as they perform their green dance, the wind caressing your face and running millions of loving invisible fingers through your hair ….
Well, that is how it should be! . Yet ,when I walked yesterday morning to the office , -the car did not arrive for some reason- , the picture was completely different from the one I described above.
Do you remember that unforgettable scene, when Dr. Zhivago and Lara were walking. The wind was blowing gently. Golden and bronze leaves were dancing at their feet, as if the film's theme music was actually orchestrating them as they swiveled in a ballet masterpiece, ha, do you? do you ? . Well, the scene, which I saw was absolutely nothing like that either.
Yesterday, it was a windy morning in Baghdad alright, yet instead of the multicolored leaves , thousands of shredded plastic bags , newspapers, rags , empty cans, plastic bottles , dirt and all sort of garbage items were flying all over my street.

The garbage car has not been coming to our area for several weeks now. The last time they came, they told us that our area is getting too dangerous, and it is getting harder for them to come and clear up the streets.
You know, that is what I really love about Iraq; Everyone is just as important as the other . The Minister and the garbage collector have the same problems ; both are subjected to political assassination! .
I kicked a black plastic bag, which tangled around my foot with disgust. As I marched along I saw a cat lying on the pavement , it did not move as I approached it , cause it was dead. What ?, they assassinated the cat too?. God almighty in heavens! Won't you do something about it already .
I decided before I went any further to give my boss a call, just incase it was not a working day, cause everything seemed suspiciously quiet , except for the far thuds I heard minutes ago. My Boss answered me yawing, apparently he was fast asleep. 'I am sorry to wake you up Ustath , do we go to the office today?'. 'Why isn't it a holiday? ,the first of Muharam? , anyway you can go back home if you want, I don't think I'll be able to come anyway, and if the rest call I'll tell them to go home too'.
Great!, now why didn't I get the brilliant idea to phone him before I went out? Only God knows. An intellect failure alarm echoed in the creepy street.

Everyone has been trying to keep a less active life style lately . If you can afford to stay home, just stay. The phrase ( New Security Plan ) makes everyone cringe .
The days are full of assassinations and car bombs, while the nights… yes, the nights , what can I tell you about the nights … You do not have to actually fall asleep to find yourself in the middle of a terrifying nightmare. Baghdad nights are nightmares as it is. Let me describe Baghdad nights ; they are so dark as if an evil spirit has spread out a measureless venomous black table cloth over the city, and sat down to feast on all the dead. And even when there is a full moon in the sky, it does not help to alleviate the darkness of these sinister nights. The moon usually emits a yellow ill light , or sometimes a full inflamed red moon middles the sky of Baghdad heralding a new massacre at the break of dawn .
Bullets shots sounds , explosions sounds , and dogs howls, compose Baghdad's lullaby, to which worn out bodies and minds fall asleep every night , not knowing and not caring if there will be a next morning .
For me night time is daunting, I am twice afraid after dark , I just can not help it, , it is illogical at all , I guess it is innate, I feel safer under the sun , in spite of, that all evils have been and are being committed under that same old sun for quite a while.

In clear nights when you can see trillions of tiny stars , I often ask myself a hypothetical question ; If all Iraqis, that have been killed, and all those Iraqis who are yet to be killed , were all killed at the exact same moment, and if all of them screamed at the same instant, would creatures from alien civilizations in far galaxies hear that scream, would little green men look down or up towards that small speck called earth and towards the even smaller speck called Baghdad and wonder; How could a place so small and in a period of time so irrelevant absorb so much pain? . Would they come up with an equation formulated especially for us like:
B = PA2 . where B is Baghdad , P is Pain and A is agony
In Baghdad Ala'a Al Deen gave up his dreams and left Jasmine to face her own destiny alone , the forty thieves have multiplied like cancer cells and killed Ali Baba and Qasim and dumped them on a deserted street , Hamaourabi caught a flight to Jordan leaving Mesopotamia behind with tears in his eyes. He decided to seek the secret of immortality elsewhere .

People are doing what each and every one can do . Those with a few extra dollars are getting out, those with no dollars to spare are facing their destiny with panic in some cases, and with courage or surrender in other cases.

The new security plan introduced itself with the bombing of Al Mustansirieh college, and that said it all for many . Reports say , that the Army will blockade parts of Baghdad in turn . In fact the siege of Adhamieh started this morning .
The other day I watched a program, where one clergy man was saying, that he foresees the invasion of Baghdad by Iranians, cause they have the needed recruits and arms inside the city , they just have to attack and the city will eventually fall like a ripe fruit in their hands. So, in other words this will actually be a fight for Baghdad between Iranians and pro Iranian Iraqis on one side and the Americans on the other, while Iraqis, I mean real Iraqis will be fighting for their city independently.
It is also believed widely that Iraq is going to be divided, and all this is a prelude for that . Whatever you decide to believe , it dose not change the fact that people are mostly pessimistic .

My friends ,who left earlier this year, are now in different parts of world, they call me and they ask me on regular basis : 'Aren't things a bit better ? we are really suffering here' .
To which I reply :
- Don't you people watch the news, can't you see what the hell is going on over here ?
To which they reply:
- Well, we were thinking that, you know… with the new security plan and all ..
To which I reply, "irately now" :
- What the hell .. , I mean I never understood those foreigners, not knowing what is going on in Baghdad , I mean how misinformed can one be for God's sake? , but then I excuse them , of course I do , they have better things to do in life than watching all the three seasons of Hell mouth /Iraq ; Hell mouth opened , Hell mouth reloaded, Hell mouth unplugged … and the peek trailer of Hell mouth forever . And why should they know?, I mean do I know what is going on in Timbuktu or Bangladesh .. But you lot , you have been here , and God with his boundless mercy and grace got you out in time, so…
To which they reply;
- It is no heaven over here too, we are strangers, east or west home is best.
To Which I reply in my "foreboding voice tone, which I use on special occasions" ;
- Listen to me , I am going to issue a statement here, read my lips -as George Bush senior used to say- ; I swear by everything and everyone I believe in ; Allah, his messengers and Angels, and also Kafka, Chekhov , Jean Paul Sartre, Bernard Shaw and Gromit. If you come back I'll throw you a welcoming party and kill you all one by one …
- Oh yeh, and how are you going to do that?, wear your best party explosive belt ?
- I'll come up with something . May be I'll just cook for you. Death disguises itself in many ways you know. Stay the hell where you are , believe me you'll thank me in ten years time . Toughen up and stop moping, and remember children; Alive is good, dead is no good.

10/1/2007

2007-01-10T06:19:00.000-08:00

As time goes by.

What a New Year's day! , and what an Eid! .

They just had to do it on that occasion. The nation waited for 35 years, yet it just could not wait for a few more days, could it? .

I guess he had it coming long ago. He determined his fate with the first murder he committed, when was that?. Well, historians disagree on this matter. Some say it was when he was twelve . On one ordinary school day a teacher scolded him, so little Saddam decided to give his teacher a private unforgettable lesson. A teacher can learn from a student too you know. Other historians say his first crime dates back to the early sixties, when he first started sieving his opponents and friends with the same proficiency.

Whatever the truth is, he had it coming . He was old enough to know, that good boys don't kill , good boys don't use chemical weapons to wipe out villages, good boys don't lead nations to destruction and good boys do not chop off tongues and ears .

I remember back in the stone ages , like all Iraqi families when getting together , we used to talk about him and even tell political jokes, keeping of course our voices reasonably low , -all Iraqi families will identify with this situation of course-. On one of those occasions, my cousin, who spent an extensive part of his life in the army and the front, "it was as if he was drafted till further notice" , asked us ; What would you do if you had the chance to punish Saddam , what kind of punishment would you suggest ?. He answered his own question saying , that he and Saddam would switch bodies, so that Saddam would go to the front and suffer fear, hunger, and have to deal with crazy officers . My Dad said, he would invent a special one-seat space shuttle, place Saddam in it and launch it towards a galaxy far far away for ever, depriving him thus from the thing he enjoyed most in life; Interfering with other people's lives . Someone else suggested an exile to a deserted Island , to which we all objected, saying that Saddam would soon find a way to rule the island and invade other islands … I said -and I really think that it was a good idea- , that I would sit in front of him , look him in the eye and ask him one simple question; WHY? , and I would keep on asking him that question for years if I had to, till I got an answer . My cousin “The eternal soldier” looked at me as if I was a lunatic and said: ‘Those books have really messed you up haven't they?. What kind of punishment is that ?.
As a form of revenge I just hummed the tune of Status Quo's song " In the Army now " to torture him . That tune always did the job whenever he needed sorting out.
Or there was another way to torture him, which my younger sibling used to resort to . You see, there was these special items and gadgets that they used to force people to take in various ways back then. These items included: Saddam's broches , Saddam's T shirts , Saddam's watches, Saddam's wall clocks and in later years, his compulsory bestsellers. Once my Dad bought a book, it was called, as I recall "The assassination attempts on the life of the president" , written by Ian Fleming, no, no I am joking, written by Barzan Al Tikriti Saddam’s half brother. My Mom looked at my Dad with astonishment: ' Don't look at me like that , they made me buy it when I was filling the car with petrol at the gas station’ , he snapped at her . ‘Oh, yeh , I guessed so. ' said my Mom in relief, cause she was worried, that my Dad had finally lost it .
Anyway, one year, I don't remember what year exactly , they distributed in the office where Dad worked Saddam's T shirts, which all the employees had to buy . Dad bought one of course . Nobody was going to wear it , so my little sibling who was in the kindergarten back then used to wear it at home as a nightie , it was so big on her it reached her ankles and the neck used to slip over her shoulders all the time . One Evening my cousin the “perpetual soldier” , -who was on a short leave, after a ferocious attack on his division- saw her wearing it , and he started chasing her all over the house with a pair of scissors he grabbed . She was laughing her head off running from room to room and screaming ;
-'na na na na catch me if you can .'
-‘Do you want to kill me, take that bloody thing off , who was the donkey that bought you that thing?, as if you have nothing else to wear, I'll cut it into pieces , just let me get my hands on you ‘. he said trying to catch her.
- ‘ Aaa, Dad, oh Dad, come over here at once , do you know what he just said about you .’ she said grinning as wide as her mouth permitted her.
- 'What's all that screeching?' shouted my Dad from another room .
- 'Nothing uncle, they were just making fun of me' replied my cousin turning pale.
And that became our amusement for quite a while, whenever he came to visit, she used to threaten;
- 'I will tell, if you don't buy me an ice cream.', or 'No you can not change the channel, I am watching Sandy bell' .
- 'It is a stupid girly cartoon, let us watch something else on the VCR, be a good girl'.
-' I will wear the T shirt and tell , I am warning you here!' she used to say standing with her arms folded , barely 100 cm high . Yeh, the front was much nicer than visiting us .

After all those years, when I woke up to images of the execution , I saw before anything else an old man being hung. I don't know why is it that children and old people in trouble instantaneously invoke pity? . And I still want to ask him the same question; WHY ? . Did it really have to be that way ?
He had choices, many choices , we can even say , that it was he who put that noose around his own neck, no one else can take the blame . Evil is another form of stupidity after all .
Someone may say: No, he had no choices, and he had to kill and torture all those people to rule a country like Iraq .It is the name of the game, and the game is power .

Well, every game takes wining as well as losing, you can't win all the time can you ?.

I personally prefer that no one at all gets killed. Yeh, right! as if I am living in Norway! nobody gets killed indeed . Here human lives are cheaper than a piece of bread .

Enough walking along memory lane and let me land flat on my face on the broken pavements of reality lane. On the first day of the year a relative of mine was kidnapped , he is 17 years old. They took him after shooting a couple of bullets in the air to drive people away, he was taken directly from the street in which his house is . The shock was staggering to us all . His parents are such nice people, the father is a doctor, the mother a professor . The abductors called the father and told him that they are from a militia and they have their reasons for the kidnapping .
What do Iraqis do now when such an incident occurs ? They do have a number of guidelines to follow, cause human beings are blessed with the capability to adapt .
So, the board of the unfortunate Iraqis agree on the following instructions when a dear one is kidnapped
- First, wait for the phone call , if you don’t receive one , the general morgue is the place to wait for the body .
- Second, try to find out as subtly as possible without infuriating the callers whether they are Shias or Sunnis.
- Third, Once you find out , try to hit the appropriate cord. since all Iraqi families have usually a Shii or a Sunni in them , try to make the most advantage of that; if the caller is a Sunni you say something like ; we are practically Sunnis too and call the relevant party in the family and vise versa if the caller is a Shi'i.
- Fourth , In the meanwhile try to contact the most influential people you know that correspond to the above mentioned criteria; the sheikhs of your tribe, your local militia leader, if you happen to know any gangsters who have became militia men recently, and use as many names as you can during your negotiations .
- Fifth, Show that you are serious in paying and remember time is not your friend nor your classmate nor your high school sweetheart, so Hurry .
- Sixth, prepare yourself for the worst. Most kidnap incidents end tragically .If the abductors are actually militia men 75% of the cases end with murder cause their agenda is usually political or to make a religious point. If the kidnappers are average criminals you may have a chance if you mange to deliver the sum properly
- Pray your heart out if you believe, if you don't believe deem it a random occurrence of nature .

So, my relative followed everything as best as he knew . His brother in law carried out the negotiations, since he was from the same sectarian origin as the kidnappers . Lots of names and titles were brought up . The sum was named and they let them talk to the young man . Of course , I need not mention what kind of night the parents had to live through .
Relatives went to support them as accustomed . We have this little cousin she is about five years old . And she understood that something terrible happened to Hamoodi ( nick name for Ahmmed) . She understood that burglars took him and they may kill him and was naturally very upset .Her parents came over to their cousin’s house to offer support . As they were all sitting telephone calls were being conducted and the brother in law was telling the father of Ahmmed that they want 10 "defters" . The word “defter” means note book or copy book , but in the financial slang it means 10 thousand USD , after further negotiation they reached to two defters .The little girl , who was listening terrified , asked her Mom how many defters do they want?
-'Two honey.' replied her mother.
- 'I’ve got lots of copy books back home. lets go get them 10 defters so they will free Hamoodi I don't need them.' She said with her tiny face lighting up with hope.
I tell you, there was not a dry eye in the house, as if every one was just waiting for an excuse to burst in tears .
Anyway, they delivered the money. Then the spiteful law of probability started, cause if you give the sum that still does not mean a thing . Next evening at about 7 o'clock PM Ahmmed called his father to come and collect him from an area near a bridge in al Seleikh area . The gang threw him from the car and started shooting randomly as they drove away, so that no one could chase them obviously . People came running thinking that it was a corpse, when the boy moved they all came to his aid, they gave him water, a pair of shoes and their cell phones , he was badly beaten up and bleeding from his head and limps.
Thank God I really thank God indeed .

Later that night one of the gang members called the father from Ahmmed’s cell phone , the conversation went something like this, Just to give you an idea that we are living in the land of topsy-turvy
- Doc, has Ahmmed arrived yet ?
- Yes he did, thank you.
- Don't mention it , See we kept our word because we fear God.
- Yes, of course, thank you, may God save you.
- And how is his Mother? I hope she is all right. Convey our greetings.
- I will, thank you again.
Now analyze this, they actually should be thanked and the father was sincere when he thanked them for not killing his son, cause there is nothing more easy and risk free nowadays than killing . It is wonder land, where the police men have to be avoided like the plague and the criminals cajoled, so as not to hurt you .

When I went back to the office after the holiday . My boss's relative had been kidnapped , Abu S.. told me that his area had been attacked the pass few days with mortars , and an old friend , who visited us to congratulate with the Eid and the new year told us that she had moved to the south cause she was threatened and had to leave her house .
Yet, when I was asked ' And you, how were you the last couple of days?'
You know, I just did not have the heart to tell them, that a car exploded a few houses away from my place in the middle of the night and we avoided death only by a few meters, and that my relative was kidnapped and nearly lost his life. I just couldn't, I felt luckier you see. So I just said: ' nothing new the usual, fine, Al hamd lilah alathi la yuhmadu ala makroohin siwah ( Praise the almighty Allah , for he is the only one to praise even for misfortunes ).

27/12/2006

2006-12-27T06:42:00.000-08:00

The night before Christmas

I dedicate this story to F... ; a very special kid.

Santa was sitting, as he usually does at this time of the year checking , and making sure for the last time that everything was in order. He was sitting before an enormous fire place with his red and green laptop on his knees, scrolling through his data base, cross referencing, trying to catch and correct as many mistakes as he could afford to. Rudolph the old reindeer, Santa's faithful companion was fooling around hanging all sorts of colored ornaments and light bulbs on his horns.
- 'I have finished! , I give up, I can’t find anything wrong'. said Santa looking through his golden rimmed spectacles at Rudolph, who was in a great mess with all the wires tangled around him.
- You say that every darn year, then somehow we always end up breaking someone's heart. By the way , are you going to Iraq this year? .

Santa's face instantaneously turned red, even redder than his red jumper , for this was a provocative question Rudolph always rubbed into his face, to tease him every now and then.

- Why Iraq ?. You know how I feel about that country. You Rudolph out of all the creatures on earth know my feelings .
- Get over it already, that incident has become a joke long ago.

Santa put his laptop on the floor , gazed at the fireplace gloomily and started…
- It was 1985 …
- Oh, boy here we go again , that story is printed in my head. It is an old Iraqi joke, people have heard it so often , they don't even find it funny any more.
- 'I was trying to deliver presents in Al Bataween area' Digressed Santa . 'The war was still raging with Iran. Back then they had this thing called the "people’s army" . All young men from 18 to 40 were drafted , and as if that was not enough the people’s army used to catch older men from 45 to 70 and up, from the streets and cafés and transport them to the front after a stupid inefficient training course.They caught me accidentally, they dressed me in khaki, gave me a rifle and it was of to the north Santa!. I was posted on a mountain for 6 months , six months of shooting and bombing …
- I know it was harsh, but..
- I have not finished yet!.When they let us go "the ones who remained alive that is", cause most of the brigade died, not by enemy fires as you may think , No, many died from diabetes , high blood pressure, heart attacks, Alzheimer … we were all so old you see. When we were finally released . I bought a white Dishdasha to wear, in order to blend with the locals, and as I was wandering in the streets of Baghdad, the security force arrested me . I did not have an ID, so I just played mad, but that was no good for them. They tortured me for about three months for being a conspiring member in an Islamic group, because of my beard you see .
- 'I understand.' nodded Rudolph sympathetically.
- The security transferred me to the secret intelligence, the latter transferred me to the "I don’t know who or what ", at the end they put me in a terrifying mad house, from which I escaped and fled the country through the north, which I knew well by then. I came all the way back here. I arrived as you recall at the beginning of December, thank God, just in time for the next season. So, the answer to your question ; is no Rudolph, I am not going to Iraq this year ! .
- Come on, what about all those children .
- What children?, you know that is another reason for me not to go. After I was released and was trying to make my way back home the children of Baghdad gave me hell of a time. They used to run after me, whenever they caught sight of me, throwing stones at me and cheering, thinking I was a mad man. Which made me move exclusively after the fall of dark. They do not believe in me, they do not need me and that is that!.
- Why should they? You were never there for them, and besides; they seized to be children long ago', said Rudolph pensively .
- Don’t you think I know that?. After the first war came another war, then the embargo, then another war and now all this hullabaloo. Children had to hit the roads and work for survival and get killed paying for the stupidity of adults . I watch them through my magic glass ball selling gas and oil, polishing shoes, begging, being beaten up to half death by street creeps. I know ! .
- 'Where are you Mr. Charles Dickens!' sighed Rudolph .
- No one believes in me there, Papa Noel is dead!, as far as Iraqi kids are concerned .
- Please, let us just give one present to one child of our choice, be adventurous for God's sake.
Then Rudolph took Santa’s laptop and typed a few letters and said :
- 'I don’t recommend Basrah, cause Shia's Militias are ruling over there totally. They may kidnap you and ask for a ransom and since no one answers for you there, and most of the Christians have left town … no, it won't be a good idea at all . All the south is much theirs too . The west , let me see… nop , with your red coat you would be kidnapped and killed in a second, they won't even bother to film you . The north is ok , but it would not be much of a challenge …
Baghdad , Baghdad …hmmm' Rudolph kept scrolling up and down for 5 minutes , then he went over to Santa showing him something on the screen of the laptop.

- There you are , In Al Dora district, in the poor market place lives a little boy. He polishes shoes for a living. Age 7. He attended school for a couple of months last year, then dropped out after his father was killed. His Mom works in a local Kuba factory.
- Fine , why not , get ready , Santa approved finally .

At 10 o’clock PM, the 24th of December, Santa and his reindeers were flying over Baghdad. Rather lower than usual, so that the radars will not be able to detect them. Rudolph checked that out thoroughly .
The land beneath them was completely black; no lights, no decorations, no fire works no sign of Christmas at all. Every now and then they would hear bullets sounds and explosions . Rudolph gave instructions to the others to go a little lower, when they reached the local church. The church was closed; no chanting or bells could be heard, just a well locked mute building. The next second a deafening blast ripped the sky and faster than Santa and his reindeers could realize , they plunged down into a filthy water puddle . They lay there in the dark too shocked to move for a while . The first voice was uttered by Rudolph :
- Santa are you alive ? answer me .
- Arghhhh, ohhhhh, I am ok I think, were we hit ?
- I think so . I read that mortar missiles are in fashion now in Baghdad .
- Ah Rudi, I think the others were hurt.

They helped each other up. Santa got out his torch light and inspected the site , His sleigh was wrecked and the reindeers were lying dead .
- Oh Good Lord, it is a bloody reindeer massacre ! Now what are we going to do? .
- We'll have to Bury them , and get the hell out of here as quick as we can .
- 'Aren’t we going to take them back with us?' wept Santa, pointing to the deceased reindeers .
- 'No, When things normalize we can demand their remains, but now it is to risky for us .' said Rudolph sensibly .

They looked around, it was an empty muddy from rain piece of land. They grabbed a piece of metal from the sleigh's wreckage, and started to dig . Before they managed to dig one square foot, bullets came raining down on them, helicopters were flying above their heads, loud speakers were roaring with all sorts of curses and threats . They were surrounded by men in blue and camouflage .

- 'Rudolph, if this is going to be 1985 all over again, I personally will kill you and stuff you with raisons and nuts and eat you for my last Christmas dinner' , whispered Santa furiously .
- What the hell .. replied Rudolph with his front limps held up in sign of surrender , standing on his hinds .
They were pushed around and kicked everywhere. They could not distinguish much of what was being said , but one word kept recurring; Irhabi .
- What are they saying oh wise deer?, you are the polyglot here, aren't you ? said Santa wiping the blood of his nose.
- Emm,.. they think that we are burying 50 men we kidnapped earlier this morning in Baghdad. And I think they are going to kill us, after they beat the hell out of us of course.
- 'And a very Merry Christmas to you, you ridiculous moose.' Said Santa with his voice shacking .
- 'I am not a moose' grumbled Rudolph.
The men in blue took them away after talking to the men in camouflage .
They put them in some dingy sell . Shortly a man in uniforn came and whispered to them :
- Which group are you from guys, are you with ****** or ****** or ******?
- 'Ah , yes as you say exactly' they replied puzzled .
- Good I’ll get you out in no time, just wait.
He opened the sell door and pushed them in front of him till they reached the road
He shook their hands violently and said:
- Go, you heroes you ! . And don't forget to put a good word in for me to ***** , and be careful the guys at the end of the street are not ours, although the wear the same uniform , if they catch you it is the end .
- Certainly.
- 'Now we really must get out of here' Said Santa .
- What about the boy? asked Rudolph
- What ? , how on earth are we going to get there?, and look at you! one of your horns is broken.
- We are in the same area , we just have to run a few blocks and then you can fly back on my back , and oh, your beard is burned .

They went off like crazy; limping, hopping, skipping and even crawling, when they had to avoid being seen .
They finally reached the broke poor area, where the boy lived. It was about twelve thirty Baghdad time. The whole lane was immersed in darkness. So was the house, except for one room, which was lit with a cheap kerosene lantern . Santa peeked from the window and saw a beautiful young woman praying alone. A statue of the virgin marry on a small table in front of her was illuminated by the orange light of a candle. The wooden table at one end of the room had dishes on it with remains of Kuba from the factory , bones of once a malnourished chicken, orange peels and candy paper . A small gaunt Christmas tree was standing at the center of the room with paper ornaments hanging helplessly from it's branches . Santa and Rudolph went to the other side of the house . They peeked from another window. There was a little boy sleeping with a small kerosene heater near his bed to keep him warm. Santa pushed the window open carefully, he and Rudolph managed to squeeze in . Santa lost his sack on the way of course , but he had a spider man toy stuffed in his pocket ,which he had grabbed the last minute before he left the north pole . Rudolph took off the cookie sack , which was hanging around his neck. They put the toy and the sack on the bed near the boy's feet. As they were sneaking out they nearly tripped on a box . Santa looked at it closely , it was the shoe polishing box . The boy must have cleaned it and left it there .
Santa and Rudolph watched the boy sleeping for a while from the window. His mother came in to turn off the heater and went out not noticing the presents on the bed .
- By the way Rudolph, what is the boy’s name? you never told me.
- 'Fadi' said Rudolph.
- Ah , a beautiful name it means "He who sacrifices himself for others ", it is another name of Jesus in Arabic isn’t it?
- Yes .
The mother actually saw them , she was standing paralyzed with fear, where they could not see her. She saw a reindeer with one horn, and a scruffy old man in a red shredded coat with a messy sooty beard, and white hair sticking out in all directions. She saw they did not harm her child . She watched them as they walked away not knowing what to make of all this. Next morning Fadi came screaming with joy into the front room. He kissed his Mom so hard she could hardly breathe, for getting him spider man, who was his hero .
- Mom I’ll go and polish a few shoes in the market, and I’ll come back as fast as I can, to play with him .

He polished shoes whistling, humming and singing for a few hours , and when his friend came with two cigarettes he nicked for them to smoke secretly, as they do everyday , Fadi refused. He just wanted to go home and play with his toy .

As for Santa and Rudolph, they decided to visit other kids in Baghdad next year. For they worked up an appetite for adventure .

Written by the Iraqi Roulette on the 25th of Dec. 2006

20/12/2006

2006-12-20T07:27:00.000-08:00

We don't need no education !

The events of the last couple of weeks leave no doubts on who is actually running Iraq. Dreamers and chronic optimists may wish and dream, but reality is reality. Things are totally out of control.
What's up ? The usual ; workers were slaughtered, civilians were driven out of their homes , merchants were kidnapped by men in uniform, the red crescent employees were kidnapped in broad day light , bodies were found in the usual places “ alleys and dumpsters”, and in the usual quantities “20-100 every morning” . The novelty this time perhaps, is that schools are out in many areas. Not for Christmas holidays obviously, “I am sure you will be able to reach that deduction alone” .
A couple of weeks ago schools were threatened. Threats were taken seriously after a school in Bab AL Muadham was hit, as a result, thirteen kids were killed with their teacher. So, that did the job, and delivered the message to those reckless parents, who sent their kids to learn in spite of the threats.
Many parents reconsidered their bold attitudes and decided not to tempt fate further . A relative of mine did so, and prevented his kids from going to school .The younger two children were exultant with this decision, it was like a dream coming true for them . They get to stay at home and play endlessly, and Mom and Dad actually don’t mind!. Now how about that ? , but the older one understood that it is her future in stake here , She cried for two whole days, trying to convince her parents to let her go . You see “she has a dream” !!!
The school in our neighborhood was no exception. The kids were sent home at noon two weeks ago, following a panic attack after -as I heard- men in masks were seen heading to their school . The school guard ran to the headmistress, who tried to keep it a secret and deal with the issue calmly , but the guard was to fast for her, and he managed in a fraction of a second to spread the news all over the school . He was faster than fire spreading in dry leaves . The girls panicked and the teachers were even worse than the girls. So,the headmistress lost her temper and sent them all home , without even bothering to organize them . Just; ‘Go girls go!!!’ .
The next day a girl from next door told us that the "Zoros" were actually from some militia and had come with a proposition for the unfortunate headmistress . They offered her protection . She refused , and that was the last I heard, cause our young source never went to school again after that incident, Her parents thought "and I agree with them" , that if the militias were getting involved , things are grim already… Some schools resumed their schedule later, but with much less children. The position of the government, or whoever is in charge is clear on this matter ; If a child is willing to take a risk so let it be. He or she i.e. the children will be held fully responsible if something is to happen .

Also, at the beginning of last week , at about 3 o’clock in the morning , I woke up on loud speaker calls from the local mosque. I do not have to mention, that the electricity for the last two or three months has been limited to an hour every 24, and even during that hour there are cuts . Electricity, what a sweet word ….oh I remember what it felt like… God bless you Thomas Edison. I know you meant well , but it was a dark hour, when you invented it . I wish I never knew electricity in my life . It is better to never have known something, than know it and watch it being taken away from you. So I woke up and grabbed my torch light and directed it to the alarm clock , it wasn’t dawn so why the calls ?. Strange and spooky.
I peered out of my window. It was pitch dark, but there were no signs of the apocalypses. You see, my Grandmother used to tell me when I was a kid , that when the time of the apocalypses eventually comes, the call of Allah Akbar would be heard all over the universe , “even if it was not time for praying !”. And, that the angel Israfeel , would be seen in the sky , as big as the sky itself, blowing his horn announcing the end of the world . I could not hear no horn nor could I see Israfeel, so no Granny it won't be tonight I suppose . It was just the Imam’s angry voice, followed by loads of shots . It continued for about an hour. The next day I knew, that the police were trying to search the mosque, so the Imam was calling the locals for help, thinking that the militias were coming to get him . The locals came with guns, sticks and stones of course .
And at the beginning of this week I heard the same calls at the same time, cause some gang was shooting or something. I think the Imam liked what happened the last time a bit . This time his voice sounded more relaxed. So now what ? every time someone is just crossing the road in front of his mosque, or someone is coming for religious consultation , he will jump to his feet , wrap his cloak around himself , skip up to his pulpit , take his microphone and start. If I were him, I would not push it to far, or else, when there is real danger no one will turn up .
In fact many people in Baghdad have been resorting to these “peace preserving pacts”, according to which, neighbors agree to call each other in case of danger . Mostly by shooting from the roofs and shouting . But, since there is no electricity, and when I say no I mean no. I think these pacts should be modified , I suggest igniting a fire in the garden or on the roof, so your neighbors can actually find you .

I went to a shop the other day, and when I was waiting to be served the only thing I could hear people talking about was ; getting out of the country. The Topics of the day were ; immigration, one hundred and one ways to acquire humanitarian asylum, the shortest and the cheapest methods to clear off etc …. , and the issue here is not where to , but how to . I even heard that there are Iraqis in Chechnya, and in the north pole!. The big melt does not scare us, no Sir .

One of my friends called me and said : Are you still there ?, I can not believe you, what are you waiting for ? get out , there won't be anyone left soon , only you.
- Yeh , that is true, anyway don’t you worry. I’ll lock up behind me when I leave .

28/11/2006

2006-11-30T11:54:00.000-08:00

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

The curfew is over. People are sneaking out of their homes after nights of terror. Streets battles are breaking out in smaller and smaller areas . Every single area in Baghdad had been engaged in some sort or another of combat the last couple of days; armed men attacking , mortar missiles falling on houses and car bombs . The new buzz is that; people are seeing in different areas of Baghdad, trucks appearing out of nowhere, unloading armed men, who spread in groups and vanish , they even have a name now; ( Afghan), whether these armed men are actually Afghanis “ which I doubt” or it is just to state that they look strange… , news conflict on that one. May be it is just to make it more spooky , you know it is more terrifying, when you don’t exactly know who is going to kill you!.

Before the curfew was announced and even before Al Sader city massacre, there was something in their air . All schools in Baghdad had received a direct or indirect threatening ordering them to close down , and kids were sent home .

It is a hopeless situation , the stage now is not to philosophise or anything , the stage we reached is; “just try and find ways to save your own life” . No causes needed here, we have already milked that joke enough ; the issue now is consequences and nothing more than consequences.
I too crept this morning to the office quietly . I sat at my desk for about an hour. The Boss was late cause his area was under siege all night long. I waited for a while for the others, who came in one by one.

As I was sitting, Abu S... was in his kitchen chatting to another employee. I was not paying much attention at the beginning, until what they were saying became a bit interesting. Abu S… was saying to the other fellow:
- Do you have a low or a high wall at the back of you house? I mean can you easily jump to your neighbour’s house if necessary ?
- I suppose so.
- Good, that will be the women's escape . As soon as they attack you, get the women to cross over , then you and your brothers and father go upstairs as fast as you can, and shoot down on them from your roof, and remember son ; never ever open the door for them even if they shoot or even if they bombard your garden, don't give them an access .
At that point I sprang out of my chair and went to the kitchen. Abu S... and M … were having their breakfast and drinking tea . Abu S… was standing holding his cup and eating a cheese sandwich , and M… was sitting listening attentively and eating .
Here , I intervened saying :
- Abu S…, my oh my, I've known you long enough , yet this is the first time I see the “General Casey” side of you , what the hell are you teaching the boy !.
- ‘Hello Dear‘ , he said slicing some cheese and wrapping it with a piece of bread , handing it over to me .
– ‘ M ...’s area is being attacked daily’ , Abu S.. explained, ‘And yesterday his next door neighbour was attacked . The bastards stormed in and the poor man was beaten up in front of his children and wife. Everything was stolen and as if that was not enough they took him away somewhere . I tell you they are taking the whole area in turn . A man has to do what a man has to do , one must fight for his house at least..
- ‘Who are these people ? do you have any idea’ I asked M...
- Who cares any more , you see our area has been practically invaded , people driven out , the houses left empty and any one can just break in . My area has been taken over by people who claim to have been driven out from their own houses . And they are forming now the majority and are carrying out raids on the old tenants. It is happening now everywhere .
- ‘And what are you going to do? , I mean besides the D-day plan Abu S... has formulated for you?’ , I said smiling at Abu S…
- What is their to do!, I'll move maybe . The whole country is on the run .

I guess it is a matter of time before it will reach every single one of us .

- Why don't you bring your family to my place . Bring them all and I will “ put you all in my eyes -an Iraqi expression, meaning I'll take good care of you and protect you- . Really I mean it . said Abu S.. sincerely.
- Thank you uncle . but your area is not safer is it ?
- No, but even judgement day with company is a festival, as they say - the Arabic equivalent of the more the merrier-.
- ‘Let's all go to the green zone!’ I jumped between them.
- Oh, yeah, as if they would take the likes of us in . said Abu S… clearing the table.
- You know if they just kick out the government from the green zone, it would all be solved. They will run faster than light speed to England or Iran or wherever and the country will be government- less, which is not so bad don’t you agree? I said picturing a stampede of black turbans , white turbans and suits trying to get on a pick-up truck as fast as they can, before anyone gets to them first, on a background of black smoke , rampaging fires , toppling date palms , and American troops folding the stairs of their giant giant super giant plane just seconds before the pick-up truck reaches there… and me watching from my roof top laughing hysterically and ….. enough of that .
- ‘You bet ‘ they both agreed dreamingly.
After a while I heard Abu S... pals shouting from the street bellow , calling him to come down. I ran to the window next to Abu S… cause I always enjoy these dialogues. I just love it when these old men start .
Abu S… opened the window and looked down at Abu M…. -a shop keeper and a friend of his-, trying to look as serious as possible .
- Why are you shouting, huh ? where do you think you are? at some sort of a market place? , please try to be more civilized.
- Abu S...Habibi = dear, come down and have breakfast with us .
- I said don't yell! people are trying to work here.
- Come on, it will get cold .
- What are you having ?
- Kahi and Kaimar ( a rich traditional Iraqi breakfast, consisting of fried puff pastry , rich cream and honey or syrup , most delicious when warm and fresh) I brought it just now .
- ‘No’ , abu S… said capriciously ‘I just had my breakfast.’
At this point the rest of his battalion came out ; another shop keeper , a carpenter, a photographer and I think a merchant who has an office a block or two away . And they all started to shout to get Abu S… down, a woman smiled as she passed by.
- What did you have? shouted Abu M…
- A cheese sandwich. Replied Abu S… .
- Ah, for the prophet Mohammed’s sake, what are you ?, a sixteen year old school girl or something? . Come down at once and get a man’s breakfast inside you !.
Abu S.. considered the issue for a moment and then said Ok

He went down to his friends , I watched them joke and shove Abu S.. inside a shop below us . Meanwhile, I could hear sporadic bullets sounds and explosions coming from far away .

Abu S.. lost his son not long ago , Abu M… had a brother brutalized and killed, one of the other men’s son was wounded and left invalid for life at the tender age of fourteen , another one of the group lost his old father after a shock related to the kidnap of his niece. All that in less than three years , Yet breakfast must go on, as they say.

15/11/2006

2006-11-15T08:43:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time in the middle east.

When I was so much younger than today, I thought that writers who devoted thousands of pages to death were unconditional freaks . Since then many moons have passed and I find myself doing exactly the same thing.
I remember once watching a nature film about apes and their reflexes .They showed how a baby ape died as he lied in his mother's lap . She started screaming and beating her chest demonstrating grief presumably . But as soon as they carried the baby away she resumed her usual life eating bananas and picking fleas from her head. They brought the baby back and she started screaming her head off and beating her chest again. They repeated the experiment several times and the result was the same each time . The conclusion was : Apes have a short memory . How I envy that practical Madam Ape .

My memory is so crowded with images of the dead, I even suspect that the number of my dead acquaintances has already exceeded the number of my living ones.
A new experience hit me the other day . Unfortunately I have already experienced how to be shocked when death occurs; you know to hear about it as soon as it happens , all the symptoms were there ; the total helplessness , the disbelieve , hope that there was some sort of a mistake … etc. But to hear about someone’s death after a considerable period and suffer as if with a setback, while everyone else has already got over it, is quite awkward .

Several years ago I worked in a company . My job was uninteresting and exhausting and the wages were so meagre, that it would have been more lucrative for me to beg instead .
In fact I was once standing with a friend, when an old beggar asked us for help, so we told her how much we were actually being paid. The old beggar said after hearing the sum : Your poor things , how the hell do you manage then ? I swear by God this is not a joke, it actually happened to me. Yet, somehow we managed in those crippling embargo years .
When work expanded and the owner of the Co. was growing richer, upon my demand I managed to get transferred to another department, thus a replacement had to be recruited . A sweet miniature young woman came in one afternoon with her Dad, they had heard about the vacancy through a friend . I explained the task to her and she accepted. Both of us were from specialities that could not have been more remote to the job , but everyone was working out of their specialities then . It was trendy in those embargo years to do everything to survive ; engineers were standing selling underwear in AL Arabi market, teachers were working as tailors , linguists were working as clerks , Chemists were working as builders. I even had a relative with a philosophy degree, who was working as a plumber . He used to joke that whenever he unclogged a blocked toilet or drain he actually saw all the philosopher’s faces “from Aristotle to Jacques Derrida” reflecting on the bathrooms glossy tiles and on the toilets porcelain mocking him.

So, she was no exclusion , but she never really minded ; always in a good mood, always making the best of it . We used to work in different shifts, so whenever she had a question or something to inform me she either wrote me a note or phoned . The manager made her his personal assistant soon , cause she was so efficient and loyal . She used to deliver his messages and orders to the staff . Meaning, that whenever she called late at night it usually was bad news and forebode trouble next morning with the manager .
- Hello , I hope I did not wake you up , but Mr. .….. wants you in his office tomorrow first thing in the morning .
- It is OK Mimi ( that is how I used to nickname her ) , I wont be sleeping after all now you told me .
Then the sweetest giggle usually resonated at her end ' Ok sweet dreams don't worry you'll survive'
- I sincerely hope so. Good night .
Once she came to me just as I was going home after an excruciating day . She apologetically started her request :
- I know you are tired and all, but can you please give me a crash course on how to use Microsoft office . You know the manager said he will allocate a computer for me only if I learn, and I have no time. But I can come a bit earlier, before my shift starts and if you .. I mean if it is no trouble can stay a little later to help me learn .
I looked at her half crazed with exhaustion , but for some reason I said ‘Sure I’ll stay for an hour after I finish work, sure, why not? you just make sure the boss doesn’t object’ . My other colleagues were pressing me to demand over time payment, ‘after all the boss should pay for your efforts improving his assistant’s skills’ they said. I had bitter experiences in demanding my rights, and I may add here that if they ever are going to hand out awards fro cowardice I surely would get the equivalent of the Nobel prize in that competition! So what I did after two weeks of teaching her Word , excel and power point , after two weeks of her not missing one moment , taking notes , asking questions and doing the tasks seriously, was that I wrote a memo to the manager demanding a reward for Mimi . The manager asked to see me , so I told him how serious she had been and “boy how I sang that day” , it is always easier to demand other people’s rights isn’t it? . He seemed convinced and wrote to the accountant ordering her a reward, the sum of 15000 ID “ the equivalent of 7 dollars” . My God he was cheap!.

She became an indispensable member in the Co. Always running around working so enthusiastically you would’ve thought it was…. It was the last chance she'll ever have to work.
A couple of years later I left my job after I got sick to death of it . And to be more frank I was hoping for a better tomorrow after the war . I thought there would be more chances than I could possibly be able to deal with, we were supposed to be the new Emirate for Christ’s sake , the future was supposed to be so bright it would blind our eyes as Oprah says, . Could I have been more ridiculous???
So, I quit after a minor row with the manger . She phoned me a couple of times after my stupid dreams proved to be false telling me that the manger wants me back . I did not go back, cause enough is enough I thought.
A couple of weeks ago , I met an old friend that used to work there too , we reminisced about the past and about how foolish we were on the eve of the war . We though all evil was connected to one man , alas .
This friend was counting the people that left the country and the ones that were kidnapped ,wounded, killed … and casually mentioned Mimi.
- You know she was killed months ago.
– What, just a moment, she was killed you say, how? when ?
- Yes, didn’t you know ?
- No , I lost contact with our old gang, I ….God , are you sure?
- Yes , shot … I am sorry I thought you knew , she was shot with a couple of other employees …
- She was barely thirty ….I whispered . I sank in my chair trying to prevent tears , it was supposed to be a bloody outing you see , I did not want to spoil it for my friend. And besides , it happened ages ( months ) ago , which equals centuries in normal nations calendars .

Two or three nights later I had a dream about Mimi . It was an unusual one though . I did not see her in my dream talking to me directly . Instead she talked to me on a phone!. I heard that pleasant-sounding voice of hers on the other end of a phone I had for some reason. She asked how I was and said that she was fine ‘No I did not die, don’t believe that I died’ she said . I woke up not understanding the meaning of the dream, whishing that there was actually a place on earth where Mimi would be holding her phone receiver telling people what they had to do for the next morning .

Today I started a new day remembering that we have new things to grieve about .We have people being dragged out of their offices in the middle of broad day light and taken to the unknown …the unknown ? I beg your pardon, how stupid of me , of course to the well known horrible death all civilians have earned for trying to continue …. living .

6/10/2006

2006-10-06T03:39:00.000-07:00

The stories of assassinations, abductions and mass graves are not seizing . Whenever anyone comes just to say hello, whether that is at home or in the office it is always a competition of who can tell the most eerie story. And the thing is, that no one can win or lose in this competition, cause the stories are more than perfect. The stories fill one's heart with horror and desperation .

Some times I feel just like putting a plug in my ears or changing the subject of the conversation , but I just sit there and listen . And after that my brain runs wild . It starts swinging fiercely between two thoughts ; What to do to save myself ?, and the numb thought that states ;What the heck, what is written is written .
Today Abu S.. told me how frightened and worried he is, because of his grandchildren starting school . He walks them to school everyday :-
“ I keep on looking behind me and whenever a car parks near us I start pushing the children around like a maniac”, he told me. “Granddad stop it!, the little one said to me after I did it about three times the other day . What can one do! . My friend made his children stay at home this year, you know many are doing so , especially girls” he added .
Great!, it took us decades to get girls out of the houses , in order to get some education and stand up for themselves, and now it is back to the stove and sink again .

A rather amusing rumour resonated over last weekend , a coup d'état was supposed to happen. And what really made it more “believable” was the curfew that was announced out of the blue.
I thought it was ridiculous, cause, ok, lets say I wanted to master and carry out a coup d'état .First of all I should mark may targets; Who am I supposed to over throw? . For that I need to estimate how many sects and parties are ruling Iraq at the present!. Should I over throw the Americans? or the militias? the Iranians? or the Arabs? , or may be the Green Zone denizens? i.e. the Iraqi government . By the time I have sorted all that out I would’ve forgotten why I ever started in the first place.

At the beginning of the week I heard, that they found 15 bodies without a head, or was it 15 heads without a body in dumpster near our area .
In Al Ghazalia a woman was shot , cause who ever did it thought she was of a “questionable morality” .That is a very stretchy concept nowadays . It ranges from not wearing a scarf , driving a car , wearing heavy makeup or as in this particular case standing outdoors more than she should.

Rumours have always been part of our lives some of them are to instil fear, some of them are mere wishful thinking on the part of the people themselves . For instance, the rumour that the Americans are sick to death of Iraq and they are just going to pack their rucksacks and leave the place is one version. The other version is that the Americans are also sick to death from Iraq, therefore they are going to take full control of everything , everything !. And the funniest thing is that when Iraqis tell you a rumour it is always a fact beyond dispute . Also it is told as if the one telling you was actually there . They adorn the story with phrases like ; And they dashed into the room and banged the table with their fists and said to Al Maliky Listen you ….- next comes the essence of the rumour - . And then he- AL Maliky- banged the table back and sipped tea from his Istikan nervously and said to the Americans ; You Listen ….. and so on .

Yet, reality unfortunately is stronger than any rumour, the situation is as bad as bad can get . Politicians are frolicking and doing business, while the average Iraqi is like that fiddler on the roof trying too keep a tune, while balancing himself so as not to fall. I don't know whether we will live to tell the story .

I remember during the eighties, when the war was raging with Iran there used to be a wicked joke .
You see, casualties were very high specially towards the end of the war and at that time many Egyptian and foreign workers were being encouraged to come over here, to work. while Iraqis had a better job to do –to get killed that is!- . So, the Iraqis used to joke , that one day instead of the gloomy casualties report that used to be read daily on TV at eight o’clock , with the newscaster roaring: The casualties are 50 Iraqis and 50 Iranians … in ten years time there will be no Iraqis left so, it would sound something like; The casualties are 30 Egyptians, 20 Pakistanis, 10 Indians, 3 Malaysians .
What about now, “Besides jokes” , who is going to live to see the end of all this . May be the casualties report would be 50 Martians, 20 from mercury, 50 Venusians were killed in Iraq over the past 24 earthen hours . I really don't have a clue .

Would Iraqis become an extinct species one day , that they will have to be exhibited in museums with a explanatory tag beneath reading something like : An Iraqi man , an extinct species, that used to inhabit the area between the two rives Tigris and Euphrates from the year 7000 BC till approx. the end of the year 2010 AC . You may find descendants of this rare species in Jordan , Syria , America and Some European countries, although anthropologists argue, that the species found in these countries do not resemble exactly the original species that lived in the twentieth century having to experience the Ottoman rule, the British invasion, several revolutions, Iran-Iraq war, Anfal , Habcha, First gulf war, Saddam’s mass graves and torture chambers , Second gulf war, both smart and stupid bombs, the rule of street gangs and militias , years of a locally manufactured civil was …etc …..

Well, who lives to see that day may add to that tag; These species were left alone to face their own destiny, and they used to defend themselves and maintain their sanity using weapons like no weapons found elsewhere in the world :- humour and faith .

28/9/2006

2006-09-28T05:30:00.000-07:00

The Holiday is over; Long live death.

I am sitting in a semi empty office after my friends leaving to the unknown. One of them phoned me from the airport the other day, to say goodbye just once more. I said ‘look, please I am not in the mood to cry again, just go already’. ‘I'll send you a message every day’. The trembling voice came from the other end.
I sat the first couple of days changing the office’s rooms decoration. Rearranging things that did not need to be rearranged at the first place, just to keep my self occupied .The boss gave me a fresh load of work; It was the first time in my life I was thankful for that!

Abu S.. is really spoiling me, now he has less people to care about.

The situation is worsening, although that is hard to imagine, I mean what could be worse than people being slaughtered under the noses of the world, but apparently it can get worse and worse, there are just no limits to that. You think you hit the bottom already, but hell no!, the bottom is place hard to define.

This morning, a senior employee came in to say goodbye to us. He managed to get a job in Jordan. The usual curtsies and promises to contact us followed. The amazing thing is that, I got really upset, although the man was not a friend of mine . Why should that bother me?. I am experiencing the same worry and fear, whenever someone comes to say goodbye, what the hell is that ? Some sort of a new chronic condition or something ? .
After a bit of pondering and analysing, I realised what these symptoms mean. May be I am not really upset because I may not see them again, or that I am worried for them, as much as being concerned and worried about myself. If everyone is leaving they must know better. I mean it can’t be that all of them are crazy and I am the only sane one.

It is like they are all leaving me in a dark dungeon and the door will soon be locked irreversibly and, what next; screams, bats flying around me, rats crawling at my feet and … there is no and, the end is predictable . I am actually afraid, terrified from the future, that is a bad sign!. As Lawrence of Arabia said once; Defeat only comes from within you.

The other day we heard of an old employee in some Ministry, who was kidnapped. The kidnappers, in the process of demanding money were actually giving the wife suggestions to go to this or that neighbour or friend to help raise the money (they were beating the hell of the man to give them relatives names, who may help, after being convinced that he really does not have the amount they had in mind).

Another one; a doctor had his teenager son kidnapped, the abductors demanded a ransom. The father managed to get it. He submitted the ransom, they thanked him heartedly, ‘where is my son?’ he asked them, ‘Oh yes, of course, here he is’, they said and opened the car trunk and threw the young corpse at the good Doctor’s feet.

A priest in a poor church in Al Doura was kidnapped. The neighbours “Muslims and Christians” raised the money and gave it to the kidnappers. The old father was released finally, but there was not one single bone in his body in place, his legs arms nose, teeth, head ..etc were all broken . Well, I guess the kidnappers decided; If he is a man of God, now is his chance to test his faith! . It is Saddam’s dungeons all over again, I tell you .

Another One? Well why not. A family of beggars, that live in a shed on an empty piece of land in a middle class area, were nearly burnt alive by gunmen, in order to purify the area from them. Cause they are Shia riffraff , and must go back to the south. The family escaped, and no one knows where they are. They were harmless creatures, that made a living for the last 15 years from the neighbours, when they were too young to work by charity, and when they grew up by selling vegetables, gas tubes and bread. But who cares sacrifices must be made on the altar of the new republic of fear.

More? No I am tired.

What is evil anyway? Is it violence ? Is all violence bad? Can there be violence that is actually good? Can evil lead to good eventually?
questions questions that must be answered before my train arrives .

Many think that evil leads to good eventually, how you say? . Well it goes something like this “according to them of course I don’t think so” ; Lets say an old pervert abducts a child. He rapes, tortures and kills the child. Evil ? is it not ?. Yes, in the purest form . But no, it is actually good . Cause the brutality of the crime will make people more aware and more vigilant in order to prevent this kind of things from happening again . Laws will be changed accordingly and more perverts will be punished subsequently, and… well, that is good isn't it? . well, not from the child’s and his family’s point of view.

What makes a criminal?. Are people born that way or do they acquire evil on their troubled way in life? . I guess both.

And how do we recognize evil? How do we define evil and how do we define good? Is evil ugly? Not necessarily. Is evil dull? On the contrary; it is very attractive; remember Lord Henry Watton from Dorian grey, he is the most interesting character in the book. And Satan in The “Master and Margarita” ? He was the incarnation of wit, intellect and charisma. Even De Sade is thought by some people to be cool!

When someone is killed or mutilated we say that is evil. Does that mean that death is evil? , Pain is evil? . That is also not a rule. In some cases pain can be purifying and death can be a form of salvation.

I came also to notice that evil is always good in the eyes of the perpetrators. In other words one man’s evil is another man’s good. To kill and torture can be justified completely, in the name of God, progress, love, peace, race…etc. Even if we go back to our old pervert's example, the whole thing was good for him, but evil for the child. And that is very frustrating of course, cause if we cannot count on the criminal’s conscience and remorse to make evil stop although to a degree, what else can we count on? . More evil I guess.

So, how can this end? Where do we draw the lines? . And the most important issue is who draws these lines, also the time –era- in which these lines are drawn can be of significant importance. The holocaust was good and necessary according to the Nazis, witch hunting was good and necessary, Stalin’s concentration camps were good and necessary . to cut a long story short ; I am always good and the others are always evil. That is where it all starts and ends. And this is exactly what is happening here; all are right, and all are wrong.

A Journey to heal .

2006-09-09T07:39:00.000-07:00

How much more peaceful can it get?

Beauty The Saviour.

The reader ( Sulaimaniah Central Library)

veni, vidi, vici

Mountains ; The immortal witnesses.

Streams of silver.

Sulaimaniah from above

8/9/2006

2006-09-08T06:49:00.000-07:00

Time; approximately three weeks ago on a steamy July morning. The camera zooms slowly towards the three employees sitting in their worn out office . Two of them were obviously hot, they were fanning their faces with paper fans frantically. The third was furious; standing up and sitting down repeatedly, pacing the small room . Needless to say the third was me.
- So, you traitors are going to leave me finally are you ? . Go ahead, leave me on the board of Titanic . Oh and by the way, don’t forget to send soapy e-mails saying how much you miss the date palms and the Tigris and that you are listing to Elham al Madfai night and day , go ….
- Come on, quit the drama will you! you encouraged us yourself didn’t you ?
- Yes, I suppose I did. It’s just that I‘ll miss you so much , and besides I said goodbye to enough friends already ! That is not fair . Actually , I’ve said goodbye to so many friends it is getting weird. What is this some kind of a role fate has endowed me with?. To stand on the ruins, with wet eyes, waving a white hanky, while you all cross over .
- If we find anything appropriate for you, we will submit your CV, and may be you will come over too .
- Ahh… your predecessors said that too , but as soon as you reach there, you will have your own problems ….
I was so miserable when I got back home that day . It is funny how it never gets easier to say goodbye with the years , I ought to have learned by now , but nooo, who me? learn? never!!! .
There was one little light at the end of the tunnel though . A relative submitted my novel to a well known writer . I was told, that the writer wanted to meet me and he even gave my relative his number to phone him and arrange an appointment . He said : -My relative quotes- “ hmmmm… there is talent and an obvious sense humanity in what I’ve read, I must see the writer , I wouldn’t write like that myself, it is a different approach , but still quite interesting, we must talk ” .
That was the happiest day in a long time . My friends usually like what I give them to read, one of them even phoned late at night sobbing cause my hero died . But, I always have my doubts when they say they like my work , may be they are just being nice to me . Now this is a professional opinion . I hope something good comes out of this , and even if nothing happens, I am still happy with what the writer said.

His Dad’s ship decided that we all are due for a break, after all the shooting and abductions that has been going on for ever , and especially now with our neighborhood looking like a deserted wild west town set from an old movie . All our neighbors have either left for their home towns “ although they don’t really belong there at all “, others left to Jordan, Syria or Egypt in hope of thing clearing up by the time schools start this Autumn.

We were shipped to the north for a break . I love the north and have very warm childhood memories from there . So, off we went to Sulaimaniah, and from it we were to carry out our healing journey over the rocky paradise .

I had never been to Sulaimaniah before, so I can not say whether it has improved or not , but, Kurds and Arabs who have been there recently, all agree that it is going to be a big big deal in the near future .
On our way to our hotel after a lousy trip on the Iraqi Airways . Lousy due to the state of the airport , and the way employees treat you there. We had to wait in long lines , dragging our bags back and forth for checking by human beings and dogs . Ok, supposedly it has to be done for a safer Iraq , yeh as if….. But why do they have to be so rude .
We tried to make the best of it by making fun and commenting about everything we disliked; for example :
Why is it, that all security employees are addressing each other as ‘Saed or Mawlana’ ; giving the impression , that they are descendants of the prophet , which is extremely questionable. The security employees in the time of Saddam used to emphasize on the ending sound “UO” in a verb, indicating that they are from the city of Tikrit “even if not true” . So you could hear them chanting “ Kitlou” instead of the Baghdad(ian) way of saying “ Kitleh” . Now everyone is suddenly talking Chinese with all their “Cha Cha Cha “ going on, indicating that they are from the south “ even if not true too” .
I was told off twice I think . I put my bag where I shouldn’t have for “His Eminency The Dog” to sniff . Another passenger to ease the tension, joked with me saying “I wish I worked here instead of that dog. They keep him in an air-conditioned room you know, no power cuts whatsoever , lucky dog”.

As soon as we arrived in Sulaimaniah, we could see, that there is clearly a construction fever going on in the city. Buildings, buildings and more buildings . Most of them are fancy, high, modern building with plenty of reflecting blue glass to resemble the buildings of UAE everyone has in mind .
The city is quite immaculate and safe . No problems, no traffic jams no shooting – not one shot -. Families and even women alone are seen walking around the city late at night with no one bothering them or harassing them .
We enjoyed the scenery, the whole city being surrounded with mountains .The sunsets were divine, also the electricity was divine. I actually felt cold at night but I was too greedy to switch the air conditioner off , preferring to freeze to death instead.

People there were marvelous; taking everything easy , hurrying no where , listening to music while walking in parks . And I must say and reveal to the world that Sulaimaniah is a city of picnickers . Wherever, whenever there is a possibility they just have a picnic .
On the way up to the mountains, as we drove there were always folks sitting under a tree , in parks, in private gardens with a matt in spread in front of them, barbequing and eating the delicious juicy meat as soon as it is taken off the fire. When I mentioned that there are way to many picnics in Sulaimaniah going on to our driver -who spoke little Arabic- , he objected :
- No , that is not so, just you wait till the weekend comes and you’ll see for your self then , not one sole stays indoors everyone is out.
Amazing, you stop and say hello to someone and he or she shoved a Sheesh Kebab in front of you, in case you are hungry . And I could not understand why do they have to go up the mountain or to any park, while heaven itself opens it’s doors in the back yards of their own houses.
In Sulaimaniah I did not see any pictures of Jalal Talabani , except maybe on one Police building . People over there criticize and tell jokes about him openly, while Arbeel and Dhok has a different story. Pictures of the holy Trinity are everywhere – The father , Son and the holy prime minister “you know the one that looks like Alfred Molina” - .

When the driver asked where we wanted to go on the following days, so he may arrange it, everyone named a place they had in mind . I wanted to go to Salah Al Deen, I remember going there to spend holidays as a child . It was beautiful as I recall it, especially the complex they called the Swiss village -it was build by a Swiss company apparently- . It was located on top of the mountain Se Reh Resh, there were skiing slopes , cottages, play grounds, restaurants , a movie theatre …etc it was magnificent especially during winter time .So I insisted : let’s go to Salah AL Deen and Se Reh Resh . The driver laughed and said : No you can’t go there now, the whole area has been taken by the Barazanies.
- What! the whole area?.
- Yep , the joke goes ; Se Reh Resh has been taken by the Se Reh Sur .
He explained that Se Reh Resh means the Black Head in Kurdish , referring to the mountain, cause there are so many trees on top, it looks black from a distance. While Se Reh Sur means the Red Head . We all know, that Barazani wraps a red Koufieh around his head . So, Se Reh Resh has been taken by the She Reh Sur means; The Black Head has been taken by the Red Head ..

We went on a long road journey to Dhok. It lasted about four hours with all the stops we made on the way .
The mountains were surrounding us from all directions, the roads were coiling like snakes for miles as we drove on .The combination of soaring mountains, springs of chaste cold water bursting out of rocks like words of love, green trees and continuous blue skies adorned with fluffy cotton-white clouds... all washed away the gory streets of poor ailing Baghdad from my head for a while . I was thinking all the way long; How could anyone think of harming anyone else , while there is so much beauty on earth , Where are you Feodor Michaiolovich Dostoevski? , I Totally agree with you when you say “Beauty will save the world” !!!

The city of Dhok reminded me of Al Adhamiah a bit, with it’s old streets and crowded markets . Also, the dress code is more strict there than in Sulaimaniah.
There is one huge super market everyone told us we must see , so we succumbed . Also we went to a place called The dream Park it is an amusement park with lots of games and marry go rounds and roller coaster. I tried them all including games designed initially for toddlers.

The resorts of Dhok and on the way to Dhok are beautiful, not because they have actually done anything to improve them. In fact I think they are just the same as Saddam had left them. But nature itself needs no modifications, just a few old dirty plastic chairs and a table in the shade of some trees, with a waterfall beside you , hearing nothing but the gurgling water streams and the chirruping birds, what do you need more ha ? tell me please! . And that’s how we mainly spent our time in Dhok and its summer resorts ( Soulaf, Saratook , Zawiita …). We were eating and drinking in such settings , savoring the peace and quiet the place offered so generously.
Although, -I must mention this- , in the evenings after, a whole day of running around , splashing everyone with water and climbing rocks, I came back naturally exhausted and should’ve dropped asleep as soon as I reached my bed, but noooo , I was sulky and on the verge of tears and couldn’t induce sleep no matter how hard I tried , it was almost funny . I practiced self analyses with my poor sleepy sibling one of those times in attempt to understand what had possessed me :
-Why am I feeling so weepy? , help me out here will you ! can’t you see it is
about to rain .
- May be it is because you are home sick? .
- You mean, that since I am an Arabic Bedouin, all this foliage and water and mountains is not my natural environment , naaaa… next theory please .
- May be, – yawning- all this activity is getting you too exited. You know, just like it used to be on those times when we used to come back home after a whole Friday of playing and eating at our Aunt’s house in the south when we were kids, you remember ; we used to cry ourselves all the way back to Baghdad.
- You mean at this old age I am experiencing a weird untimely form of regression to childhood nice try Dr. Frued , but naaaa .
- ZZZZZZZZZZZZ – snoring -
- I know, I think it is that my system is not used to peace any more, it is used to the daily dosage of violence , it is just like when you are addicted to drugs or alcohol , You can’t switch at once to orange juice and boiled vegetables. It will make you just as ill at the beginning . That’s it, I am not crazy after all, I am just sick….... are you sleeping ?.

When we returned to Sulaimaniah , we wandered around the city more consciously. We went to the central library . Of course, we were not allowed to go in to the halls without registration , but still we enjoyed the architecture .We also went to an art exhibition of paintings inspired by Halabcha, it was very disturbing, that it brought me back home directly.

The people there were very friendly , asking us about Baghdad and trying their Arabic with us. I was sitting in the hotel café once when one waiter asked in perfect Arabic
– Have you got a kadhum CD on you ?
Kadhum ? which Kadhum ? , my brain went to the less likely as usual.
- The Imam? I asked stupidly .
- No , hell… I mean Al Saher .
- No , Sorry .
- I used to live in AL Karada, all my life I lived there , but we had to leave . I am listening to these Kurdish songs I really can not understand . I really miss Baghdad , I swear as soon as things get back to normal I’m going back home.

You know, there is a this thing that is emerging in new Iraq . A concept called -The inner Emigrant - . I mean Iraq is full nowadays of people, who are living in places they do not want to live in . I mean this boy is a Kurd , but he feels that his home is Baghdad.
After our neighbor was killed his family was threatened and they had to move to Karbala , which they hardly know . That’s right… drive the kurds back to the north and Shias south and Sunnis west against their will . Who will remain in Baghdad then ? I don’t even feel like answering that question.
A taxi driver said to us sympathetically in Sulaimaniah:
- Allah is seeing and he will help you out of this believe me . Look fifteen years ago it was awful around here too . During the day time Jalal ruled , yet as soon as the call for evening prayers was heard in the city , Masoud started ruling till the next morning , and they fought their brains out; their armies were killing each other in the streets and innocent people suffered, they even starved . After fifteen years it worked itself out, look at us now , he pointed from his car window . It all worked out with Allah’s mercy .

Phenomena(s).
I witnessed some Phenomena(s) while in the north . Besides the majestic lofty mountains I actually saw a Kurd that liked Saddam . I don’t know how to explain that and make it as clear as possible . Well, the closest comparison I can think of is a Jew that loves Hitler! . He was a shop keeper we brought things from, and we chatted with him a little and he said, that if Saddam was to come back things will all be back to normal again , we need a man like him he said !!!
Another phenomena that was not less amazing to me was, that the Americans were walking around the streets of Dhok freely; dinning in restaurants, riding roller costars in parks , buying things, chatting with the locals. It was amazing to see a soldier walking around in uniform in populated neighborhoods and staying in one whole piece .

Another rather sad and frustrating thing was that there are still- in spite of all the claimed welfare in the north- , there are still little children ages from 5-15 that have to hit the streets and work . Poverty is still a fact over there . An issue such as child labor should have been solved by now , you would have thought . Practically babies are working as shoe shiners , sellers and porters , which is a horrifying fact there just as it is here .

We left Sulaimaniah at dawn . Our plane was supposed to take off at 6 in the morning . So we started off at about 4:30 .
It was still dark and the city slept in the shadows of the mountains . The streets were illuminated sufficiently .The stores had their lights left on too. Fancy merchandises only had large glass windows to guard them , unlike Baghdad’s shops fronts , that has to be suffocated by dull iron meshes .
So long, city of barbeques and picnickers, I leave you to enjoy your well earned endless holiday.

When we were delayed for two hours in the airport for no obvious reasons by the Iraqi airways , I said to my sibling :
- Oh , no that again , are we going to be searched at Baghdad’s airport again? are we going to be yelled at ? tell me so I may apply my skin thickening ointment.
- No , they wont , we’ll take a taxi and leave straight away , it is only on the way out they check the bags.
The airplane was squealing and the window could do with a good polish. Also we had to hurry inside the plane to get to a seat as soon as you can , or else one could be left without a seat , yeh… just like in a village buss, if you don’t hurry you’ll miss your chance to sit . And it happened, three men were without a place to sit, so one of the stewards asked them to come with him , may be he took them to sit in the pilot’s cabinet or the bathroom , who knows . Shouldn’t there be some safety regulations to prevent taking more passengers than the plane can take?.

- By the way as I recall and as my experience and common sense suggests; the airplane stewards must be tall, thin, handsome and youngish , why are these old, fat and bald . Look, look this one must move sideways in the plane’s aisle, he is too fat to move straight, his belly is even bigger than Dad’s belly. Wait he is actually the same age as Dad , What the hell…. – I said -
- Shhshhh , Yeh, well may be these ones refuse to leave their places since the eighties, may be they have connections how the devil should I know .
- I don’t want to eat that muffin, they gave us one the last time , do you think he will hit me if I refuse ?
- Who? that bald one , yeh he looks fierce , just take the damn thing will you and let me get some sleep .

8/8/2006

2006-08-08T09:42:00.000-07:00

Abu S.. came back to the office last week . He looked a lot thinner and he limped noticeably, as if he just doesn’t care any more .
I came to know the hard way, through the many deaths I’ve witnessed in my life, that comforting a believer is way more easier than comforting someone who does not believe. With a believer it is just the usual “ it is the will of God ... the deceased is in a much better place now! “ . While, with an unbeliever you have to find explanations for the tragedy , which are usually rather more confusing than comforting . Abu S .. is an ardent believer, which "should" mean that half his battle is already won.
For the first day he did not stay for the whole day, he had things to do, his little newly orphaned grandchildren - there are three of them- wanted to stay with him ,while their newly widowed mother was staying at her parents house .
He told us, that his son was killed with his best friend in his shop that afternoon . Witnesses told him, that armed men came out of their cars and headed straight to the shops , one of the shops was S.. green grocery shop , the witnesses told the unfortunate father that S.. jumped as soon as the hit men came, in front of his friend , maybe in a pathetic, thoughtless last moment attempt to prevent them from killing his friend … anyway they were both killed with 7 other shopkeepers . S.. was a Sunni, his lifetime friend was a Shii.

Abu S.. is going on with his daily chores as usual, insisting on bringing us coffee , turning on and off the generator, filling it with fuel whenever empty and tidying up . I caught him once or twice , when going to get some water from the kitchen fridge , wiping his tears while washing the cups .
I hear you pal , I’ve been there before , I know how it feels . You think that mountains will suddenly tumble with the weight of your loss , rivers will stop flowing and the sun will stop rising , yet, you find that the show is still amazingly going on. You look at the streets and you just want to shout out loud : “ What!!! Are you people still going to work? where the hell are you driving your cars to ? , Is the TV still showing the usual stuff ? hasn’t the world heard the news ? don’t you all know who I have just lost ? .
Oh , how I hear you ... you sweet sweet old man .

I once read a short story by Anton Chekov , it was called “Misery” . The hero was a poor cabby, who had just lost his son . He spends the whole snowy miserable Moscow night trying in vain to get through to his unfeeling customers, and tell them about his loss, Yet, no one gave a damn . So, at the end of the story he sits feeding his horse and actually starts telling the horse all about his loss.

__________________________

What is happening in Lebanon is too painful to watch even for an Iraqi . Qana is a disgrace, a tarnish on the forehead of humanity, and all it claimes to have achieved in centuries . How could anyone allow something like that to happen ? . If “let’s say just for argument's sake” the world thought that the destruction that happened in Iraq was justified by the fact that Saddam was the monster camping behind a hill just waiting to launch them MDWs , then, what has Lebanon done to deserve all this destruction? . Lebanon is the only democratic country in the whole region. Once I was discussing an idea with someone , I was saying that what happened to us could happen anywhere , he disagreed with me and said, that it is impossible that the civilized world would permit such a thing , cause we -he said- gave the world an excuse to beat the hell out of us , since our policies were despicable in every way, we just left no options for any good doer .
What about Lebanon then? Is it right to ravage a democratic country such as Lebanon like that ? destroy and kill everything that is moving . Sure there were reasons, there will always be .
But , a world , that sees a building which has been freshly destroyed and sees disabled children's corpses being pulled out from the rubble , yet does nothing , is the depiction of hell as we know it . In other words; the Holocaust , London Blitz , the mass graves in the Ukraine, Poland and Russia, Hiroshima, Uganda and Baghdad meant nothing to the human race so far.

I am reading Gibran’s “ Broken Wings ‘ now , although I have read it before , I am repeating it cause the description of Beirut in it is sublime . Beirut is actually a living being in the book , a character parallel to the main characters; young Gibran and his lost love Salma. Here is a excerpt :
“ In the spring of that wonderful year , I was in Beirut . The gardens were full of Nisan flowers and the earth was carpeted with green grass , all like a secret of earth revealed to Heaven . The orange trees and apple trees , looking like houris or brides sent by nature to inspire poets and excite the imagination , were wearing white garments of perfumed blossoms. Spring is beautiful everywhere , but it is most beautiful in Lebanon . It is a spirit that roams round the earth but hovers over Lebanon, conversing with kings and prophets , singing with the rivers the songs of Solomon , and repeating with the Holy Cedars of Lebanon the memory of ancient glory . Beirut, free from the mud of winter and the dust of summer , is like a bride in the spring or like a mermaid sitting by the side of a brook drying her smooth skin in the rays of the sun".

22/7/2006

2006-07-22T09:23:00.000-07:00

Love hurts.

The moment my friend opened the office door instead of Abu S.. Sunday morning, I knew something was wrong . For the couple of years I’ve been working there, he has been the one who opens the door for us every single morning.
-Where is Abu S…?
- I don’t know, he has not come yet .
– Did he tell you he won’t be coming in today?
– No ..
- I hope everything is All right , I said getting really worried now.
I mentioned Abu S… before , He is the sweet old man , who keeps the office, makes us tea and locks up every day after we all leave. When I started work at the office, everyone was telling me what a darling he was , everyone just adored him. I remember on my first day , he offered me a cup of tea :
– Thanks, I don’t drink tea . I told him politely
– Why ? aren’t you Iraqi ?, he said .
– I am, but really I don’t drink tea. He was going in and out of the room, shaking his head, feeling so sorry for me , suspecting I was just too shy to ask :
– Would you like me to get you something form the shop , would you like me to make you something else ? …. He kept on with concern .
A friend who used to work there, told me that Abu S… has been working for the founder of our office for 30 years or more, and the latter considers him one of his family . He also told me that Abu S… is disabled ( which I noticed).
As time went by , I noticed that he goes out every Thursday afternoon early, and the GD permits him to do so , cause he knows that Abu S… must “and when I say must I mean must” go to the cemetery every Thursday to visit his wife’s grave and spend the whole afternoon with her . As I got to know him more I got to know, that there are three things, that Abu S… simply cannot live without ; Abu S… loves Al Mutanabi street, cause he loves old magazines. He loves Sook AL Ghazil pet market ,cause he loves birds , and most of all he loves his wife.
He has been a widower for the last 11 years , and ever since, his wife died from cancer, the Thursday visit has not been interrupted even by the successive wars and violence . No Zarqawi , no Muqtada , no so called multi national forces can stop him from that rendezvous.
Seeing, that I always have a book on me, or a note book, where I usually jot my thoughts , he always asks me or “rather tests me” on the meanings of some ancient words or who is who questions he reads or hears somewhere , just to start me talking I suppose.
One of our Shii colleagues said to me joking one day as Abu S… was serving us his trade mark delicious coffee : -
- Do you know, that Abu S.. betrayed his people and changed his believes, and converted, for the eyes of Um S… only ?, every one laughed, so I guessed, that this is a running joke in the office. I looked up and said :
- Why did he marry a pagan? .
- Much worse, he married a Sunni and became one of them ,he said putting a funny grave expression on his face. Abu S… was smiling mischievously . I seized the opportunity and bowed before Abu S.. in a theatrical way and said solemnly :
- Your crime is unforgivable , but even blasphemy can be forgiven in the name of love .
He told me eventually about his life , love , children and work . He told me a lot about Um S… , It was as if he was really waiting to tell me all about her.
Once, He opened a drawer in His kitchen, and showed me a small, old black and white photo, of an attractive young woman.
– Wow she is nice , way to go Abu S… I said smiling
– I have not shown it to anyone else in the office you know. .
– I wont tell .
- I really loved her , we married when we were teenagers. On other occasions he told me more about her , he said to me once that people tell him, that he should forget about her already and stop this ritual of spending every Thursday in the cemetery.
– What should I tell them when they say that?, do you think they are right ?.
– Well if I were you, I would say; may be she is dead for you, yet she is more alive to me than any one of you . He really liked that .
– You are one of the lucky ones you know.. -I went on- .Cause according to Lev Tolstoi; the possibility of finding two people meant for each other is no more possible than for two peas , selected beforehand, to fall next to each other, when a whole wagon is being loaded with peas .,
– Does this Tolstoi believe in God ? he frowned .
– Yes .
– Ok, then he is all right , what else does he say….
To the question why he loved her, trying to understand the formula of love on my part . He told me a lot of things I’ve already heard, but one story seemed to answer the question .
One Rainy winter , Abu S… was late at the office , cause the GD had an important meeting, and needed him to serve . It was during the Iran Iraq war and there had been air raids on Baghdad that day . He said …‘a guy from the shop bellow us came into the office telling me that Um S… was outside waiting for me . I ran down and there she was, her Abaya was drenched .
- What the hell are you doing here, it is 10 o’clock , why didn’t you send one of the boys or someone’. I made her sit in the waiting room and went about my business. The GD saw her and asked what the problem was , when I told him, he sent me right back home with her and also with a generous reward . On our way back. I was silent , She started crying telling me how worried she was and how she just could not help it , she just had to go out to look for me , cause ‘you are not well’ she said , and that just killed me . She fed the kids and walked all the way in the rain and dark just to make sure I am Ok .’ Can you Imagine?. She is a woman, I should be the one who does all the worrying’ ; ( Abu S… is in his Sixties, you know, the old school ! ) . ‘I always remember that rainy day you know , Although she was nice to me in many ways, but that incident will stay with me to my grave, that’s how much she loves me ‘ he said …..

So, after waiting for an hour, a guy from Abu S… perilous neighborhood came with the news we hoped would never come . The day before, his son S… a young man in his mid thirties ,who works in a grocery shop was shot together with about six other shop keepers at three o’clock in the afternoon , after being threatened to close their shops a few days before . Three o’clock on a hot Sunday afternoon, the same time when Abu S… was clearing up the cups and trays and locking up the office .

I know how emotional Abu S… is. How is he going to survive this blow in his old age? .
We sent him our condolences , but none of us has dared to go and visit him yet, cause we were told he is in a state, ‘no use going now , let him cool down’ his friend told us . What shall I tell him when he comes back , how am I going to look in his kind old eyes . I’ve seen him cry before a couple of times , “whenever he heard any tragic news and believe me there is no shortage in that over here” . To see an old man cry is the most painful thing , even more painful than a baby crying in my opinion, cause you know that a baby has years to heal , but an old man is to take all that pain with him in his final impending journey.
In Iraq the accident is to stay alive, the norm is to get killed ., Yet it is still so painful. Why aren’t we getting used to it for goodness sake ?.

11/7/2006

2006-07-13T01:27:00.000-07:00

A night to remember

When war comes literally to your doorstep, you have to seriously start thinking about your past life. You start giving oaths to be a better person if you were to be granted just one other day . When you are stuck in the clammy clamp of death you become… how can I put it … A better person ?, or you wish to be a better person at least. Many times during my life I nearly died and each time that happens, it is as if a different brain, a spare part brain , or an Auto brain starts to take over , my perceptions changes momentarily, suddenly, all the things that seemed a minute ago so important to me seize to be so . I am suddenly ready to embrace the whole human race, forgive and forget everything , I don’t care whether I have enough money, my boss is so sweet and kind and not so bad after all. My Dad is eh …. well no, that I won’t admit even on my death bed, he is always wrong and I will always be right and that is the end of it !.
Yesterday nigh, Weapons of all sorts and sizes were used against masques and even against houses by Al Mahdi Malitias in Al Ghazalia , Al Khadraa, AL Mansour and other areas . Imams were calling for people to come and protect their areas in loud speakers . Some locals were shooting in the air from their roof tops in attempt to keep the thugs away .What was amazing though, was, that the police were standing not interfering neither positively nor negatively, and the Americans were no where to be seen also .
It is no longer a case to be denied ; the civil war is openly being fought now . People have been in denial for quite a while ( me included) , but we have to admit that Iraq is cancer positive and some parts just have to be amputated and maybe chemical therapy will be the only solution . Who ever is behind it all seems to have succeeded , even the reporters are reporting the casualties of war in a new manner , for instance 14 Shias , 10 Sunnis … were killed in this or that Sunni or Shi’i area , forgetting , that there is actually no Sunni or Shia area , in fact there are no Sunni or Shia families , but this whole matter has been stubbornly pushed in that direction for obvious reasons.

This terrible night followed the horrifying events in Hay Al Jihad area, where groups from Al Mahdi militia were stopping people in the streets asking them to show their ID ; if the name had any Sunni implications they just shot the person , although many Shiis were killed to . A friend of mine told me that her relatives moved to her house after fleeing Hay AL jihad and they were Shiis that were threatened too. They told her that the militias members were kids, kids with weapons shooting people automatically, which painfully reminds us of Rwanda, when kids were given guns and programmed to kill even there parents.
The Government is not in a hurry to do anything , or I shall not be that harsh on them , may be they just can't do anything ; sitting, debating, analyzing, philosophizing . But when the night falls on Baghdad it is just the average Iraqi; Sunni or Shii in the face of death in it’s many recent forms .
Preparing yourself for death is never an easy task , you always feel that you still have a lot of things to do and accomplish. So I’ll go back to read the book I’ve started “A Pale View of Hills” by Kazuo Ishiguro, I hope I’ll accomplish that .......

9/6/2006

2006-06-09T11:33:00.000-07:00

One Baron more , one Baron less … Ahhh what the heck

What ? Al Zarqawi is dead ?
What is there to expect? that our lives will get back to normal ? Well, one problem less I guess . Many Iraqis do not believe he even existed at the first place, and when I say ; do not believe; I mean really, absolutely 100% positive that he is a myth, an invented character designed to create and direct fear , to pull him out of the hat whenever needed .
A colleague of mine thinks that Al Zarqawi is like the infamous Ax murderer ( Abu Tubar ) from the early seventies. Many Middle age Iraqis still remember him well , and believe, that he was invented by “ some say the Ba'athis some say the CIA” to terrorize Iraq from north to south . That serial killer managed to force Iraqis to flee Iraq , to bolt their doors at nights and to march armed in groups along streets taking turns after sun set, protecting their communities .
I personally believe that there actually is “or now was” a Zarqawi . Why shouldn’t there be ? with all the circumstances more than convenient for him to work, unlike in his homeland Jordan.
Although, I think he owes much of his success and fame to the media that created his legend. I mean there are so many talented terrorists out there dying for a chance and a moment of stardom , but without opportunity , without a launching platform; who will ever care . Talent is not enough, someone has to point you out and say that you are actually the real deal , and that anything you say is a words of wisdom let it even be something like “ striped trousers and checkered shirts make a bad fashion statement” . Yeh , everyone needs a launching platform , a promoter ; actors, writers, singers, terrorists and even blogers need that for God’s sake …
I even suspect that the media actually put a few ideas into Abu Musaab’s head , I doubt that he had in mind at the very beginning ideas of igniting a civil war or declaring the first “Islamic Imara” in the century , but in the process of work , as things moved on and as channels and politicians promoted him he grew more conscious of his role and really got in to it .
But, show business has no mercy, it is a jungle out there I tell you , they made him, they filled him with vanity, then they finally led to his destruction , just like the late Marilyn Monroe “ just kidding “ .
Anyway, may his soul rest in hell , if his death means that one Iraqi innocent life will be speared , so be gone with him . Who is the next star going to be, I simply can’t wait .

19/5/2006

2006-05-19T11:54:00.000-07:00

Another day in hell

When funny things happen consecutively, they seize to be that funny, they just lose the effect. When someone tells you that a smug slipped on a banana peel and landed in a filthy puddle flat on his back, then a women in a high building poured a bucket of dirty water on his head, then two kids decided to fight on top of him, then a cat being chased by a dog ran over him , then people rushed to help someone else passing by him , then someone decided to help him to get up, accidentally dropped him causing injury, an ambulance arrived to take him, on the way to hospital they got a flat tire, the driver and the staff commanded him to get up and fix the car….and it can go on for ever, you may smile but a genuine laugh ? I doubt it , cause it is just too much, it is exaggeration even if it had actually happened.
The same applies to a tragedy . when it gets to sad, even if it is true with no fiction involved , it gets ..what is the word .. ridiculous ? no I wouldn’t say that, it gets unbelievable, you can not believe that things like that can actually happen in real life, so dark and miserable; just like an Indian film, too many tears to be true.
What happened a few weeks ago was something like that, it was so sad it seized to be real. There is this man that works in a nearby shop, where I work, we heard that his father, a man of abundant years had died, the first question we asked was ; was he killed? , no no he is old, he just passed away. Then a few days later we heard a different story ; we heard that, his granddaughter ( the shopkeeper’s niece ) was kidnapped, a kid of about 11, the abductors demanded a ransom , of course the father and uncle were selling things asking friends to help them with the ransom . Four days later they managed to gather sufficient cash, they gave it to the kidnappers and the girl was released ; A very common story in today’s chaotic Iraq, but the addition, which ads that extra “ too much element” to it, was that the granddad being so attached to the kid actually committed suicide when he first heard she was kidnapped !!! .

A family wrecked .
We helped in gathering money with other employees and friends to help the father with the ransom sum , that is all we could do .
I was devastated for days, cause I actually saw the old man a couple of times with his son in the shop , a peaceful old soul he was . For days I was attempting to write it down in vain , I was too emotional about it . Finally, like it often happens with human beings who want to get on with their lives, I tried to find a moral behind the story, you know things like ; the granddad sacrificed himself , that’s why God was generous enough to save the little girl’s life , or he lived his life and he is happy in heaven now for his little one’s life ..etc.
I calmed down a bit as days passed , especially when the father came personally to thank all those who helped ( the sum we managed to gather was pathetic, but still our intensions were appreciated). He was calm and told us that the little girl is in a state of shock at the present , but he thinks it will pass, and the important thing is that she was not harmed physically .
Things were normal for a couple of days, just the regular bombing and killing in the streets , the worse was yet to come ; at home I was told a week ago that our close neighbor was kidnapped and his family is doing everything to get enough money to save him . My father wanted to visit them and check, but our other neighbor advised him not to do so , cause they may not want any one to know. My Dad sat for a couple of minutes and just couldn’t take the pressure : I’ll go I must go let them get angry with me, but I must see what we can do . The son of our kidnapped neighbor; a young man in his early thirties told my dad that he sold both his and his father’s car , a piece or two of his mom’s jewelry , borrowed from here and there some cash and will be paying the ransom hoping for the best . He said, that his uncle called the police and told them , doing “as the Adds on TV suggests”. The officer “or who ever spoke to him” just listened and said good bye : ‘Aren’t you going to come or something, I mean to investigate’ the uncle asked .
‘Well you told us the story that is enough what else is there to check, bye’ .

Anyway I was sitting typing the first tragedy this morning, when screams filled the neighborhood, I ran so fast to the garden I nearly flew , thousands of thoughts rushed in to my head in less than a second , It seemed at that moment, I forgot everything about our neighbor, I even forgot that today is a holyday and all my family are indoors safe, I don’t know why I was full of fear for my dear ones as soon as I heard the screams. I found my parents running in front of me to our neighbor’s house , we opened the gate , and God what I saw … I found the mother sitting on the floor, her cane beside her wailing and screaming: They killed you … they killed you . His young daughter looked at us weeping with astonishment as if asking rather than telling the neighbors, who were present- having heard the screams- : My father killed ..my father killed? . The son was sitting in denial repeating; But we paid. We paid, we did pay them .
Everyone was weeping over the murdered, pious, respectable man , but what could we say else than …. We are here for you , may God have mercy on his soul , it is God’s will after all, God is with you …. I returned and I cried for a while , then sat down writing about it . There was another scream an hour or two later. I realized that the body had arrived from the morgue for the family to take a last look and say farewell -as customary - before he is buried. I ran up to the roof and looked over the wall down to their garden. I saw this top view ; his widow bending over the coffin, his daughter kissing her father’s hands and chest, the son chanting with the rest of the men : There is no God but Allah . My parents and the other neighbors standing around the coffin .
Five years ago in that same garden they were celebrating their son’s wedding; the mom was glowing, the father was all smiles accepting congratulations and the young girl was running around serving orange juice .Two years ago on one Eid sunny morning the father was standing in this same garden handing out plates of meat to poor people, while his children and their cousins were delivering other plates to the neighbors . My dad took the plate and shouted over the wall : ‘Thanks Haji .’
He waved back busily handing out plates ; Don’t thank me thank God for his gifts ( al shukur ila allah ) .
As I write now I can still hear sobs and periodic screams and they are piercing my heart.
I am writing this for myself , in case anyone who reads this blog finds it too sad to be true , but it happened in my life and I am writing it to remember .

Thank God they are here

If they weren’t here looters would’ve raided all ministries and hospitals for months, robbing and burning everything of use, like hungry locusts, but that did not happen, cause thank god they are here …

If they weren’t here anyone, who has a thousand year old dispute would settle it right in the middle of the street with Guns and knives, without even bothering to go to court ,but that did not happen, cause thank god they are here …

If they weren’t here weapons of all sorts and sizes would‘ve been accessible for months for everyone to take , to load trucks full of ammunition and store it wherever they wish, to use against each other with no one to stop them , but that did not happen, cause thank god they are here ….

If they weren’t here our country’s riches, especially oil would have been squandered and smuggled in the middle of broad day light to make rich opportunists even richer and to make the poor even poorer with not enough fuel to drive a car at days, but that did not happen, cause thank god they are here ….

If they weren’t here our streets would be like mountains of garbage and broken pavements , but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here the best people of Iraq would’ve been shot down by scoundrels with no one to stop them or ask who is responsible, but that did not happen, cause thank god they are here …

If they weren’t here the country would’ve plunged into middle ages and stepped with confidence towards civil war, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here billions of dollars would’ve been spent in the name of reconstruction , healthcare and electricity, while nothing in reality is changing let alone improving, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here …

If they weren’t here unemployment would’ve reached over 70% and if you try to get a job you have to seek someone to endorse you and send you to the establishment that has your people , thus, creating Shi’i, Sunni and Kurdish ministries instead of Iraqi Ministries, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here women would’ve been threatened in the middle of streets and ordered to cover up and wear a scarf, or beaten up and even killed, if caught driving a car cause it is a sin for a woman ( Hurma) to drive a car, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here gangs would be roaming our streets kidnapping our children, women and men without anyone daring to stop them, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here bodies would’ve been found not in mass graves like in Saddam’s time, but scattered on sidewalks for everyone to see, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here every terrorist who has an issue, every foreign agent with his own agendas would’ve come here, through the welcoming wide open borders to frolic freely in Iraq doing what ever they wish, but that did not happen cause thank god they are here

If they weren’t here every neighboring country would’ve pulled from it’s end trying to get a piece of us, with the assistance and through their loyal fierce militias, but that did not happen cause thank god are here ....

What would've actualy happened if they werent here? You just have to remove the If ..... part ,and instead of the thank God ..... part place Why are they here ?

Bureaucracy , Bureaucracy

2006-04-28T04:31:00.000-07:00

What happened last week ? Well the usual . Actually I’ m thinking of working out a Form, which I can just fill , since things are getting so regular . I have in mind something like this :-

- □ Yesterday
□ This morning
□ Last night
□ Other
A

□ Bombe
□ Missile
□ Car bomb
□ Other
exploded , causing ( 1- 200 ) deaths (all Iraqis, all civilians).

- □ Yesterday
□ This morning
□ Last night
□ Other
A
□ Relative
□ Friend
□ Neighbor
□ Co worker
□ Other
Was abducted from ( house ,on his /her way back home , in the place of work) . A ransom was demanded , later a ( dead beheaded / disfigured with traces of torture ) body was found in:
□ A dumpster
□ The outskirts of Baghdad
□ A neighborhood at the doorstep of a school/mosque/church/any other public
building
□ The infamous morgue
□ Other

- □ Yesterday
□ This morning
□ Last night
□ Other
A massive military attack was carried out by ( The American Army / Iraqi Ministry of ….. ) against insurgents to the :
- □ North
□ South
□ East
□ West
□ Other
Of Baghdad / Iraq , which resulted in hundreds / thousands of civilian casualties and the destruction of fields /houses/ cars /public buildings , the survivors had to flee and are awaiting compensation for damages.

- Al ……Area in Baghdad is completely under the control of
□ thugs
□ terrorists
□ men in uniform ,who no one will answer for
□ Others
Killing /kidnapping / threatening people to kill them if they won’t leave their homes / planting bombs to their hearts content . However , No one came to the rescue . After days/weeks/months the Americana carried out the routine checking and left the people to face their fate . Soon all of Baghdad will be under the control of “whoever” totally, including the Temple of Solomon ;I mean the Green Zone before they notice /choose to notice.

- An unprecedented rise in the prices of :
□ Gas
□ Oil
□ Petrol
□ Other bear necessities

- The Iraqi
□ Prime Minister
□ Minister
□ Other officials
Undertakes drastic measurements to solve the everlasting security problem . He also accused his predecessor of being incompetent , a separatist and a discriminator on ethnic basis .

- same as the previous item but the
□ Prime Minister
□ Minister
□ Other official
Are different instead of a Shi'i there is a Sunni or instead of a Kurd an Arab .

- The famous celebrated terrorist
□ Abu ….
□ Ben ….
□ Others
Appears on an Arabic channel declaring war on the infidels everywhere except in his own country / threatening to behead a western hostage . These appearances are now monthly / annual / semi annual , or whenever any one needs a push up or out.

- A new wave of assassination sweeps Iraq this time the victims are
□ Police/Army recruits
□ Doctors
□ Professors
□ Business men /merchants
□ Journalists
□ Barbers
□ Newspaper boys/old men
□ Any useful being for the country’s future
□ Others

- The prominent Shi'i / Sunni clergymen announces his support to this /that party causing street commotion and looting .

- The electricity was off the last 24 hours for:
□ Four hours
□ Six hours
□ 24 hours
□ More
God on the other hand refuses to reduce the heat a few degrees, in spite of all prays and supplications. Explaining, that he has a universal plan not to be disrupted .

After I finish the final form , cause I‘ve not yet . I'll leave space for afew items that could be added, cause it is not totally static over here , for instance women recently are being shot widely and attacked ,when walking without a scarf or driving a car , schools are being threatened to close or else bombed , missiles are destroying everything but the targeted green zone as usual , you know stuff like that . while, any special events like using unconventional weapons on villages or a towns , a wedding / funeral / kids birthdays being hit killing all guests.. can be attached as an appendix to the Form . So, as I said after I finish I would just have to fix the date above and place a tick in the square in front of the appropriate choice, copy here, paste there, then that’s it ; a post is born .

But, for the time being I’ll do it the usual way.
So, last week there were seven deadly explosions in one day, which left Baghdad staggering. They came as soon as the new prime minister held the reins of … well actually I don’t know which reins he is holding, I thought it was the Americans who are in charge. Any way seven the number was . And so on . The Ministers are squabbling over ministries , that will keep them busy till the next prime minister is due . .
Our newspaper boy reappeared, but refuses to share with us why he disappeared in the first place .
Thursday morning old Abu S…. came in as pale as a ghost saying, that he just saw a dead body in the street :
- What a boy he was, what a young boy , hardly twenty … oh Allah what have we come to ….
As he was making coffee I listened to his monologue before his creator , it went on for fifteen minutes :-
- …. why God , for what are you punishing us , this did not happen even in the time of Al Hussain “peace upon his sacred soul” , the unbelievers even then speared the lives of women and children .
He paused removing the pot from the stove then continued :-
- … even in the time of Jesus Christ “peace upon his sacred soul” the Jews speared the life of Jesus’s mother and his disciples “peace upon their sacred souls”, Oh Allah I beg you to dissipate these clouds of death from our sky . Why did I live to see all this? Why ? . The criminals are all in Jordan and London ( why London I don’t know and it was no time to ask) drinking Arak = (A lethal Iraqi alcoholic beverage , stronger than gin and vodka , where would they get Arak from in London I don’t know and it was no time to ask too ), while me and you -he looked at me handing me my coffee - poor, honest Iraqis are sitting here tricking Izraeel (the angel of death in Islam) to stay alive .
Now that really made me feel sorry for myself .

When the rest of the staff arrived he told them too , what he saw and experienced that morning.
We went home early .The news were not encouraging there too , at home I was told , that the local grocer told them, that all the shops received a death letter, warning the shop keepers that they will be shot like dogs if they dare to open their shops next week.
Abu A … our grocer said he will try to secretly sell his clients the doses of cucumber and tomato and celery .
I imagined him with his protruding belly in his white dishdasha ( national Iraqi dress) and white worn out cap, folding a couple of kilos of groceries wrapped in a newspaper under his arm, wearing dark sun glasses . With anxious customers meeting him in a designated spot , serving them one by one after sun set:
- Abu A…. give me the usual .
- the dough first mate !
- But Abu A… I need it for my salad .
- the dough , I said
- Here take it
Abu A… takes four cucumbers and shoves them in to the basket looking around him fiercely ,
- quick … next …Oh , what do you want Um Ahmmed , here you go a kilo of potatoes , what you don’t like them ?
- My husband wont eat that, they are rotten .
- Well, Um Ahmmed, his majesty Abu Ahmmed your husband can go himself then to the outskirts to get his potatoes for 10 times the price. I am the only dealer here. Next !.
- Ok , ok I’ll take them here you are, calm down will you !.
- Wait… did you hear anything, scram all of you , tomorrow if we are still alive at the same place the same time . My brother got busted yesterday selling Maggi soup… things are risky .. Then Abu A…. folds his goods and disappears in the dark of the night .
I shook my head and quit the night mare appreciating the salad on the table .
What next can happen in new Iraq.

22/4/2006

2006-04-22T07:37:00.000-07:00

The last 10 days were very distressing and exhausting for me . A very close friend of mine in the office phoned me one afternoon saying that her cousin was abducted on his way back home , right in their neighborhood, he was beaten up to half death and dragged away in front of his friend -who was with him in the car-. The family received a phone call where the kidnappers professionally succeeded in intimidating them , saying things like : We are coming for you next , go collect your son from the morgue , keep a close eye on your grandson .. and so on …. A day passed, then they called again demanding seventy thousand US dollars . The man is a pharmacist, so he is not that rich, his father told them that his son has a car , 10 thousand dollars and a pharmacy . He implored them not to harm his son and told them ,that they may take the car, the shop and the house, he told them that his daughter in law will move and they may take the whole house . Of course this may seem a bit ridiculous, but it happened in many cases , that kidnappers actually accepted houses and cars in exchange for their hostages ( in Iraq that is of course). They called after a couple of hours saying, that they changed their minds, cause it is too much trouble and they are going to kill the 40 year old pharmacist who is also a father of a 13 year old boy, who has not been eating for 3 days now ,being so attached to his dad. After begging, crying and beseeching the old father accepted his fate and told them that he is going to make the funeral arrangements for his unfortunate son , and thanked them for being so evil.
That was one situation, the other one; is that I am under a lot of pressure at work , cause we are really sitting on pins and needles at the office , with all this new witch hunting on anyone who is working going on, even the newspaper boy has disappeared after receiving a threat apparently. We do not know how to get in touch with him, cause he lives in a war zone as it is (Al Sader city) , so we are just praying for his safety .
Also, Al Adhamia was on the brink of major military operations. We were calling our relatives their every hour .They were telling us the most disturbing things . Street fights and shouts for help were heard in the ancient lanes of that area .

I always try to understand the motives and explanations for all actions that I encounter in life , even when crimes are committed. I try to understand what stands behind them . Our psychology professor back in college days used to repeat time after time ( No criminal is born with a dagger in his hand ) .There is always an explanation, not necessary a convincing one from our point of view , but at least try to understand why it is so convincing from the criminal’s point of view . i.e, try to understand the logic of a criminal.
But till this moment I fail to understand the motivations of government members meeting endlessly with trays of oranges , apples and bananas in front of them ( every and each time ) choosing not to see the Spanish inquisition campaigns all around them .What does it mean that they just will not yield in spite of torrents of innocent blood in the streets on daily basis , unless naturaly they are told from Overseas to do so ? .

When I read blogs of people , who have lost hope completely in Iraq, it makes me cry , it is easy , or rather affordable if you are abroad to lose hope, but if you are here in the spot, to lose hope is simply an exorbitant price . It means death , just lie down and die, literally .

Here you are sitting in the midst of debris, being waken up every night by gunshots and explosions, fearing the night visitors that may take you and drill a hole in your skull just for kicks , each and every day hearing of people you used to know being killed or kidnapped , waiting for your turn . …And yet we still choose to wake up every morning , and after thanking God for still being alive and having our breakfast , we drag our feet to our jobs, facing thousand of possibilities , and if we return home safely we lock and bolt our doors carefully, and we sit writing about it all , letting others know that we actually had a life before all this started , and that we still have views , meaning our brains still refuse to give in .
It could happen to anyone anywhere in the world if it happened to us .
That leads me to an attempt to philosophize blogging as an act . For some I guess it is a path to fame . Inspired by others who have actually succeeded , you start blogging in hope of becoming some sort of a celebrity . Others, especially in other places than Iraq try to become more real through blogging , cause may be by being real to others you'll become more real to yourself . In other cases mine included , blogging is some sort of a message in a bottle, to get others to know that you were actually here, on this Island, after the wreck of your ship you survived, you are still here , and in spite of having little hope of anyone coming along to save you , all the same you sat and wrote your message in the bottle and hurled it in the sea ( the internet) so that THEY would know.

10/4/2006

2006-04-10T01:40:00.000-07:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/4894148.stm

A link to an article by BBC John Simpson reflecting on three years of failures in Iraq .

9/4/2006

2006-04-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

9/4/2006

The bombing of Buratha mosque requires retaliation, and it will happen of course, more blood and destroyed buildings are required to set records straight.
Donald Rumsfeld said : If a civil war is to happen in Iraq , “as if it hasn’t yet” , we will not interfere . Now, that is really reassuring, we can really sleep safely now. To rephrase we can say, that we will be efficiently delivered form a dictator’s grip to the hands of combating fanatics and thugs . Now, that is one hell of a present , you know on the occasion of the 9th of April and all . To herald a civil war.... what more can one ask for . Many happy returns of the day !!!

Yesterday, Hosni Mubarak gave an exclusive interview to AL Arabia channel , he was asked -as tradition necessitates- about his views on the possibility of a civil war . As I said it has been a well established tradition to talk about the civil war in Iraq in a suggestive way for the last year or two . He said : “ there is a civil war already in Iraq” , he also said that traditionally the Shias are more loyal to Iran than to the countries they live in .
So, Al Jafari , in spite of his demanding schedule , that consists making everybody else’s life as miserable as possible , actually bothered and took the time to address the nation criticizing these statements and declaring that the Shias are as patriotic as all the other members of the happy Iraqi family, the colors that form the Iraqi rainbow , the ..etc..etc. …"It is not the time Cato" as the immortal Insp. Jacques Clouseau says . Just get on with your work for the sake of all the Shia’s, Sunnis , Christian Saints .

7/4/2006

2006-04-07T09:29:00.000-07:00

6/4/2006
It looks like it is going to rain again . Three days ago it was pouring as if all Iraqis had decided to have a good cry together . The streets were full of filthy lakes ( not puddles, lakes ) .

The Boss of all Bosses called us for an emergency meeting, in the view of the recent targeting of Companies and offices .
Last week black cars parked near a Co. in Al Dawoodi, men in uniforms got out , entered the Co. , asked the employees to step out of the office and stand in a line and they shot them all down , three women and five men . That is how the eye witness reported the whole story . After that they just hopped in their cars and drove away . It is the most terrifying incident till now , I mean, there has been kidnapping and shooting of employees before, but the method is novel. You know to line them; both men and women and execute them at about eight o’clock in the morning.
So, we were asked to be careful, although our office is no big deal at all , and no ransom what so ever would be paid just in case, in fact the gangs themselves should offer us some material support.
We sat down me and my mates near the window watching the rain pour, reflecting on how much worse things may get . My friend brought a huge box of candies and we sat worrying and stuffing our faces simultaneously:
-Hey, give me the red ones they are supposed to have a strawberry flavor, I said extending my hand.
- They all taste the same, the colors are just different, she said handing the box over.
- So, what is it we must do in case they kill us ? I asked crunching the rock hard sugary sweets.
- Well , he said to run down the back stairs .
- Ah, I see , take these things away from me, I ate about 20, they are horrible. I said wrinkling my nose.
The door bell rang , My friend involuntarily looked at me . I joked with our other mate who went to see who it was : - If it is the – Maghaweer- ( a special force formed by the Ministry of Interior, the nearest translation is Commandos may be, whenever there is an accident people report that the culprits were dressed like them!!! A Regular Coincidence??? ) if it is the Maghaweer tell them I am not in mood to die today, will you love.
That was three days ago. Today they let us out early everyone is expecting the worst . Everyone is saying the shops in Najaf and Karbala are closed . Although Najaf Governor denied any unusual incidents yesterday in Al Arabia channel when asked , everyone is expecting more blood shed, this time in support of Al Jafary .
Al Jafary and Muqtada have been on amicable terms for quite a while now , they both spill phrases of praise whenever the other is mentioned . Al Jafary is expecting that Al Mahdi Army will come to the rescue, when the going gets tough .

Although he declared yesterday that he would “gladly “ step down if the “parliament” asks him too, also he said something that I thought at first I was half asleep or something when I heard. It sounded a bit senseless, he said : "All my life I’ve been seeking confrontation, I always wanted someone to kill me in the name of a cause" , of course these are the most comprehensive words to convey what he said, cause he is always going round and round in circles getting nowhere.

It is really no big deal, I mean if he really, truly , madly wants to get killed all he has to do is step out of the green Zone , his wish is the most attainable of all wishes nowadays in Iraq.
As I was saying, Everyone is dreading street fights and looting here in Baghdad and the southern areas . What will the Americans do in that case? No one knows : Will it be like at the beginning of the invasions when looters took their time in lifting all that could be lifted , and sometimes what could not be lifted without a fork lift . As I was told by an old co worker who witnessed looters actually bringing trucks and lifts an drills to assist them looting heavy machinery from Ministries, nothing was done then, they just let them go on for months . Or would they take a more active role ? Which choice is better ? A hard hard choice.

I am listening to my favorite songs from Jesus Christ Superstar , I love all the songs in that movie, I know most by heart , especially the Gethsemane song , now it really bears special meanings for me …
…..I'm not as sure, as when we started.

Then, I was inspired.

Now, I'm sad and tired.

Listen, surely I've exceeded expectations,

Tried for three years, seems like thirty.

Could you ask as much from any other man?

But if I die, ……………….

--------------------------------------
Saddams trial’s ratings are dropping sharply , may be the Producing Co. will have to take it off soon …

1/4/2006

2006-04-01T08:43:00.000-08:00

Jill Carroll is free, thank God for that .We have a saying over here, that goes : In times of stress and disasters your good deeds come to your rescue. And that is quite true in the case of this young heroine .
Simple people everywhere in this wounded country were genuinely concerned about her fate in spite of not being safe themselves . Reports say that 30 Iraqis per day are abducted for various unconvincing reasons, the majority of them are killed brutally and thrown under bridges or in dumpsters.
Thank God anyway.

Trying to figure out what is going on in Iraq is as useless as trying to convince a cave man to use a laptop computer and do some online shopping instead of going out hunting. I think we have already reached that stage when one’s main concern is to stay alive , and not to think to much of reasons and consequences anymore . And may be those who actually will mange to survive, in many years to come will be as bemused as all the other preceding nations were, after it was all over. They all sat analyzing and asking each other in books and films the immortal question : How and why was it all permitted , how did the world allow the fact that millions of Europeans and Jews were slaughtered by one maniac, how did millions of Russians end up in concentration camps in the name of building heaven on earth, how did civilized people in Europe “in the nineties of the 20th century” carry out mass rapes in order to purify the race of former Yugoslavia..
What is happening on the Iraqi political arena is ludicrous; a semi literate clergyman is vowing to liberate and defend Iran and Syria , yeh well with whose army? an army of practically brain washed young unemployed people, the post Iran – Iraq generation, trying so hard to make ends meet. Or the other shrewd clergy man who mediated for a hearing to be held in Washington with Iran regarding the situation in Iraq , officially accepting the guardianship of our neighbor .
All that , and the streets, and what is happening in them, last week on our way home shots were rained on the cars near Al Ghazalia just like that!!! people scrambled and jumped out of cars and lied on the pavements, who were those people, where did they appear from? . In the evening a week or two ago in Al Ghazalia also gun men stood in the middle of a crowded market place and opened fire randomly on passers by .
Another thing I heard which really distressed me deeply, was what my friend told me ; He was in a car in Al sha’ab area, he said news had just come in, that a buss with visitors returning from Karbala after the Ashoor anniversary had been attacked by gunmen, killing all the passengers , he said he saw and heard with his own eyes and ears how about 20 young men getting into cars were shouting -lets go to fight them yes to fight ( nukatil) in AL Ameria in revenge - , so it is finally that way is it, Al Ameria is a place to go and fight “them” in , to fight who may I ask ? other fellow Iraqis ? in retaliation to the killing of Iraqis too.
I think once we have crossed that line there is no turning back .
We will also say to the next generations, that we don’t know how it actually happened , just like the Germans did not know how Gas chambers actually happened , just like the Americans don’t know how Hiroshima actually happened . We are walking with blind folds on our eyes in the same path , and yes indeed, every single one has his own reasons , they seem very very convincing reasons at the time, but in decades from now we will say the same lines that our fathers told us, when we sat judging them for permitting Dictators to rule them : It just happened that’s life !!!

I read years ago a brilliant novel by Stephan Zweig called –Amok- , the allegory is used to refer to times when wise men’s voices become so low and weak that they are barely heard, while voices of thugs and agitators gain a special strong tone . The novel starts with the hero in a car in India , a disheveled tramp appears from nowhere and throws himself in front of the hero’s car and starts raving , screaming and thumping the car front with his fists, this creature was not human anymore he was a beast, suddenly a group of people appeared with rods and sticks and start beating the tramp steadily until he calms down or rather looses his consciousness. The hero asks the Indian chauffeur: What was that? he replies stating a matter of a fact : It is Amok Sahib, Amok. When a person is insane it is as if there is a demon inside him that just has to be dealt with .
In the course of the novel many cases and life situation (unrequited passion which leads a man to insanity and crime, an idea that led to 2nd world war where millions murdered millions…), shows that sometimes reason and logic just do not work, they are temporarily “it may take generations” silenced or switched off , and the solution has to be sometimes even more senseless , sometimes with more violence or sometimes running away and avoiding the whole situation is all that is left to do , which is a crime just as bad.

15/3/2006

2006-03-15T09:52:00.000-08:00

Still living the aftermath of the ominous shrine bombing. Senseless retaliations are sweeping all over Iraq .
The possibility of a civil war has been molding for quite a while now, it is not new at all, there even was such a prediction being circulated vigorously during the rule of Saddam : “Only he (i.e. Saddam) can control the situation, if he goes -God forbid- , people will be killing each other at every door step” . ……. Any civil war can be prevented when there is a genuine will to do so , it only takes a few sound politicians and another hand full of honest clergy men to ease the tension .. Of course all TV channels have been showing non stop Shia and Sunni clergy men embracing and kissing and nearly holding hands and swaying singing “give peace a chance …” but that is only for media consumption , the instructions are otherwise .. It’s the old “do as I do but not as I say” concept in some distorted way .
And as if assassinations, bombings and abductions are not enough… there is something new in the average Iraqi’s agenda ; and that is having to leave your own house .
You receive a letter with an explicit threat to : Move! you wretched Shia or Sunni or Christian or Kurd … or else!!! . People of course know better to do otherwise, so they just obey. It is a heart wreaking experience when you have to leave your house , your room and the things you like most. The mere idea of me leaving my books - no pick up truck is enough to load them so of course I’ll have to leave them behind - brings tears to my eyes, and my computer my photo albums … oh God do not do this to me .
I know they are just things , and to stay alive is much more important , but what is life anyway ? According to my knowledge it is a collage of people , places and.. yes things that we love .
Up till now three families I know decided to leave their areas , everyone is feeling so vulnerable being without any rights and without any protection.
People out there on the other shore cannot understand what it is like to stand alone against the forces of evil ,which are getting more and more hard to identify .
When I saw , a month or two ago people with their furniture on trucks heading to somewhere safer from Ramadi I really understood that the bricks one lives behind are actually worth their weight in gold… It is a new Diaspora, an exodus , a trail of wandering Arabs “this time” which is being created under the noses of the modern world.

To clever for his own good !
My friend from the office was telling me the other day how their street is practically empty these days , there used to be about 15 families now only three remain, the rich are in Jordan or Syria, the less rich are staying with relatives in other areas or even renting houses somewhere else . She and her family are also seriously thinking of leaving. Then she told me what happened to her the day before .
– Do you know what happened yesterday? my dad had the fright of his life …
Here is what happened ;You know how things are these days and how everyone is so jumpy, so her dad ( who is a professor) came back home at about 3 as usual, he was just about to ring the bell when he saw a sheet of paper folded carefully and stuck on the gate with some scotch tape :
- “ So that’s it then? …, here it is finally the letter that every Iraqi dreads … my death decree has arrived…. no matter how long it is delayed nothing can stop it after all – he concluded sorrowfully - . With trembling fingers the poor Professor reached out for his death penalty, whispering in surrender to his fate “in the name of God the merciful and compassionate” and he unfolded it . When his daughter -my friend- came to open the gate for him carrying her baby, he was as white as a ghost, he read for a moment , then turned from white to red now with anger :
– That absolute idiot, the irresponsible jerk ..
- What Dad ?
- I thought it was a bloody death letter and look what.. he said handing the supposed scarlet letter to her.
My friend read with fear : Dear Professor … I’d like to inform you that starting from next month I will be offering internet service at competitive prices – a lot cheaper than any other place - if you decide please contact me. Yours Kadhim .
As my friend and her father stood mouths wide open trying to compose themselves, their next door neighbor ( an ex-officer) came waving a sheet of paper and said
- God, I nearly had a heart attack .
And both of them roared in one voice : Kadhim you damn fool, couldn’t you have just popped in to tell us .
Kadhim came out from the opposite house garden bewildered and wide eyed , looking like a wet puppy wondering what could he have done wrong this time.
Important note :
Kadhim is the neighborhood’s young aspiring computer geek, who is trying to establish himself as the new internet provider in the small area, but his advertising skills need some serious upgrading.

___________________________________
A dear friend told me ,that my blogs are getting more gloomy and poignant with time, and advised me to look for the flowers in the desert , I found one big flower here it is : Gromit and Wallace have won an OSCAR: I am ecstatic .

22/2/2006

2006-02-25T12:54:00.000-08:00

Wednesday 22/2/2006

To say that my day started as usual wouldn’t be quite accurate, cause shortly after I reached work and sat down to toil , we heard very loud shooting noises.
We all rushed to the windows to see what was going on, of course, we suspected that someone was being killed “as usual” but this time right in front of our building .anyway, that was not the case . From our office window we saw the police trying to get a man to evacuate the spot he had occupied unrightfully, the man sells kebabs on the pavement everyday from a primitive iron cart . The Kebab seller was not obeying the orders and was making a scene:- “where the hell do you want me to go,- he was shouting - this is how I earn my living .
His cart had an iron shed over it , so with the assistance of a shuffle-truck they bashed it , the man was hysterical and started running around , cursing and people gathered from all over the street . The police started shooting in the air to break up the crowd .
- As if everything is excellent in the country, and that poor man is the only problem that is left . Our streets are immaculate and only this wretched kebab seller is disfiguring the beauty of our capitol, said the old man that keeps us full with tea and coffee very angrily.
- Cheer up uncle , you don’t eat from his cart anyway , M .. once had a sandwich there and nearly died after it, he had to go to the hospital for a stomach pump” we told him trying to calm down ,our knees still shaking from the shock of the bangs.
I went back to my work for some time ,when I was phoned from home - what ? I couldn’t make out what was being said exactly… the Holly shrine in Samaraa; has been destroyed , how come, may be it is a rumor I thought .
I told my colleagues, they were jus as puzzled , then the “Boss of all Bosses” confirmed solemnly – I just read it on the internet .
- Oh , my God do you know what that means?, said my friend
I had made a promise to myself a couple of weeks ago never ever to talk politics again, no matter what , so I sat resuming my work trying to remain positive , or rather wishful thinking .
We usually try to break the ice by joking about it , but this time everyone was beyond that stage , my colleagues were just mumbling between their teeth “May God save us all , Allah Yestur” . We all knew that the streets do not need extra tension, it is just waiting for a spark to explode .

Thursday 23 /2/2006
As soon as I opened my eyes , and of course switched on the TV , I saw the news about the Young journalist Atwar Bahjat, who was murdered on her way back after covering the events in Samaraa . It is a tragedy that sheds a little light on what the daily routine is like in Iraq . Her colleagues and family were devastated , and when they showed her younger sister on TV, I reckon there was not a dry eye in the country. She kept asking amidst her tears : Why , Why she is only thirty years old , I don’t have any one else in this world, no other sister or brother , I will cry for her the rest of my life.
And as if that crime was not brutal enough , the funeral was targeted on Saturday. The family members and her colleagues were surrounded and shot at on their way to burry her , as a result three were killed others wounded . AL Arabia Journalist was broadcasting all these events live and calling for authorities to rescue them .
The curfew is going on in hope to alleviate the situation, apparently it is not working all that well. Today; there was a suicide attack on a market in Karbala that caused serious casualties , in Baghdad mosques are being burned and shot at, and every morning the night harvest is obvious for everyone to see on the streets in the form of dead IRAQI bodies .
I would be a liar to say that I really ever prayed for anyone but myself and my family and loved ones when things get tough , but this time I am actually sitting praying my heart out for my country. The country that I know with all it’s filthy streets , lousy services and angry people, whom I don’t even know or care whether they are Shias and Sunnis. No one will loose as much as us in this whole thing , to slip into a civil war is not hard at all , but to get up from such a fall is impossible .

19/2/2006

2006-02-19T13:12:00.000-08:00

The Evil men do.

The great French philosopher Albert Kamu said bitterly, when horrors of WW2 shocked all civilized beings “ The reign of beasts has begun “ . Not the less great American writer Ernest Hemingway said concluding in despair “ Men die like animals” .
When we were kids parents did not talk about the horrors going on in Saddam’s chambers of death in front of us in detail , but we were all warned seriously never to say anything bad about “Ammo Saddam = Uncle Saddam” OR ELSE … I remember being told that they take people who do so and they “ torture them “ , back then I was not sure what the word –torture- implicated exactly .. “ Pain .. unbearable pain” I was told . The best my imagination could come up with was an image from a pirate film I saw, where the Captain tied a mutineer sailor to a pole and bared his back and whipped him , I remember asking what is the Captain doing? -I was about six- , he is torturing him I was told ,so torture became a synonym to whipping for me back then . I grew older and friends and even relatives told me more about torture , speciously when one of my cousins got into trouble with the ( Amin = the security forces), he was locked up for 2 months after that he withdrew to a self-imposed solitary confinement for the rest of his life, he never went anywhere, no one visited him, he just used to stay in his room watching the life of everyone else but his own go on. I imagined what happened to him , although no one ever talked about it . Yet Yet Yet all those years of imagination do not compare with one image from Abu Ghraib and the streets of Basrah, proving that an image is better than a thousand words . Children now are seeing and talking about these images as a matter of a fact , although not fully understanding what is going on: “ why are those men stripped and why are they laying like that ?... “ what is that American so pleased about? why is that auntie dragging that man like a dog “ , these images are even being reflected in their games , ‘putting a bag on each others head is a new game lots of parents are complaining about nowadays ‘ .
Well well welcome to the new republic of fear . We all went through these images before, and there is nothing much to say any more .
Only one thing, Many of these torturers will go back home as war heroes I suppose , but our consolation “as helpless as we are as a nation”, is that Americans will have something to worry about each time a war hero comes to live in the neighborhood , each time he sits peacefully, medals shining on chest and all, in a park watching little girls and boys play or ride their bicycles , each time they will have to worry, what could be going on in that hero's head, is he seeing those obnoxious images again , nostalgically craving for the good old days in abu Ghraib??? Ernist Hemingway also said "Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else thereafter."

This reminds me of a story I read once about a Russian serial killer . He was caught after slaughtering 50 or more people. When they investigated his biography they found out that he was a sniper during World War2 and he was rewarded of course for hunting down ( those Nazi bastards) , but the war ended and the euphoria was over, and even war heroes had to go to work for a crust of bread , so the sniper had a bit of a hard time making ends meet , therefore he decided to do what he did best ; kill, and kill again till things got better.
A person that can rape , torture and humiliate another human being in the line of duty is not expected to go back to normal as soon as the war is over, “if he or she is normal to start with, that is ! “ .
As I started with the great French and American men I shall finish with - I don’t really know if it is a joke or not really- they say that the great Egyptian national leader Saad Zagloul said upon his death bed : There is no life with desperation and there is no desperation with life. Another great Egyptian leader Mustafa Kamil said upon his death bed in that loveable Egyptian accent ( Mafeesh faida : there is no use ) , may be evil is the natural status of man kind after all.

Doomsday
It seem that the last day on planet earth is approaching . I was personally planning that that day will surprise me when I’m in my late eighties, sitting in my front garden eating something soft (no teeth ) and then Bang !!! I’ll find my self in a queue waiting my turn to be punished by a sooty faced guy with a pitch-fork . Never planed it would be so soon .
Is there going to be a massive horrific war, that would wipe everything from the face of earth, leaving the survivors if any to start at year Zero . Not that it would make much difference to Iraqis. We are already there . A bit of rain floods us and leaves us out of civilization’s arena, when we go out hunting ,I mean to work or to school there is always a possibility that you may get munched by a dinosaur for lunch . But honestly I do not want life to end on the planet, I refuse to vanish in a puff of smoke even if it is high quality nuclear smoke . Iran is being extremely naughty , Hamas is on the lead and stone agers are about to rule over here. And as it has always been, when there is going to be a major war, there must be an Incident !. May be the Danish cartoons are that incident ?
I really don’t know ? Or may be that incident is Iraq , … and from Iraq it will all start… Genesis : The Iraqi Roulette .

12/1/2006

2006-01-12T07:16:00.000-08:00

I’ve been struggling with crippling despair since election results , I was hoping for sort of a miracle , but finally I gave up . So, no more political discussions! , not interested any more in who killed who, or who is going where , or what is cooking in the kitchen .
My mates have noticed this metamorphosis and are trying mischievously to resuscitate me.
- I say, did you see “ what’s his name” yesterday? , did you hear what he said , he went on like he was the only Iraqi on earth ... “Winking at one another saying that trying to lure me into a discussion”.
- Not interested ( I reply gloomily )
- May they all rot in hell ( I reply on another occasion aggressively)
- May they all catch Bird’s Flue as far as I am concerned ( I reply on another occasion maliciously ) .
One old man in my office is observing the disturbing changes in my attitude with delight , cause we always used to have these heated debates , which usually ended with us frowning at each other and not talking for the rest of the day , and me ultimately offering him a chocolate bar as a reconciliation bribe.
He has been hovering round me like a vulture , trying to contain himself and repress his joy seeing my sulky eyes . Then, before the Eid, he spilt it all out , and he seized the first opportunity to stab me with the words I dreaded to hear most : I TOLD YOU !
I kept my eyes on the book I’ve been reading since the day after elections ( The Art of Happiness) , a selection of interviews with the Dalai Lama , I am reading it as a form of remedy.
He carried on;
- I told you didn’t I ? . but you.. oh no you wouldn’t listen, you said the seculars will win , there simply cannot be a religious autocracy in Iraq . Aye , aye , I told you dear , they need a Saddam , and if there weren’t a Saddam they would’ve invented one sooner or later .
I wanted to say: you have lost faith in people completely, and you do not believe in resurrection , but I bit my tongue instead.
He said with sparks of victory dancing in his eyes :
- History child , history , who killed Imam Al Hussein ? We did . Who killed his holy father before him ? We did …. “ Oh God here we go again “ - I thought grinding my teeth- … Who dragged the Royal family in the streets of Baghdad? We did - I joined him in a choir this time- …. Who killed Abdul Kareem Qasim ? We did. Who killed abdul Majeed Al Khoui ? We did .
He went on with his monologue : With iron and fire this nation should be ruled . Al Hajaj and Saddam were the only ones who managed to rule Iraq successfully … at that point I switched off and the broadcast was cut , and when that happens I usually start imagining things . Instead of the cute chubby red face of my old co worker, I saw a candle illuminated face with terrified eyes and a finger pointing at me, forebodingly shouting : You are all dooooooooooomed , Iraq is doomed , run for cover you jerks.
I shook my head and went back to the page I was reading :The Dalai Lama looked at me from the pages saying amicably : “no success , no wealth , no mate can grant you happiness .Happiness is there inside you , it has to come from Within … you have to look inside your soul” . I’ve been trying , but what I saw inside me freaked me out , it was so scary, that I’d rather not do that Again .

24/12/2005

2005-12-24T13:07:00.000-08:00

An Iraqi Christmas Carol

Once upon a time of all the good days in the year, upon a Christmas eve old Iraqi Roulette sat feeling as miserable as can be in a chilly room watching nerve wrecking elections results , where shameless politicians were rejoicing their preliminary victory.
It was cold, bleak biting weather , and midnight was approaching. Midnight is a dangerous hour in Baghdad even on one’s own house roof, but old Iraqi Roulette could not take any more and decided to wrap up and go out to the house roof, to meditate a bit and may be have a good cry . The sky was clear and there was a cold pinch in the air, winter has arrived at last . Although Iraqi Roulette loved winter it was also something to sob about this year, because the government decided to rise fuel prices out of the blue… mysteriously after elections. Iraqi Roulette looked at the black velvet sky, and was just beginning to calm down , when suddenly a sparkling star materialized in the dark horizon and … three figures descended from it , they flew towards the house roof in the noisy with bullets sounds neighbor hood. Old Iraqi Roulette had been a victim of vision and sound hallucinations before, specially when scared , yet as the figures came closer and closer , their was no mistake that they were three men , they all put one foot forward and landed on the small roof, using their cloaks as Para shoots . The first figure wore a black turban and was wrapped in a black cloak and had a colorless long beard , the second figure was the exact replica of the first yet in white , the third wore a black cassock and a large silver cross shone on his chest . The first thing that came to Old Iraqi Roulette’s mind was that either the holy mother of God is giving birth some where in the crummy neighborhood , or someone has finally flipped and gone completely mad . The three figures crouched around a fire they lit magically , and began to talk amicably :
- As I said brother, you are a sore losers . said the Black Turban .
- No, we are not! replied the White Turban irritably .
- Are too! (BT).
- Not, not, not, the whole country witnessed the boxes going in and out of election centers, decreasing or increasing votes as you please . (W.T)
- Ah , you just can’t take it can you , stepping off the throne is always hard .(B.T.)
- Look , every one knows you are not playing fair at all , Fatwas that can not be questioned , militias threatening voters, lists being torn at the place.. …and a ghost telling you how to live.. please it is the 21st century, grow up already!(W.T.)
- A aaaa now we have it, is all a sectarian matter to you , I tell you now and now again , once and for all; there is no difference, we are all the same , I mean we are all Shias. said Black Turban
- What about you father it seems as this all is none of your business, said White Turban looking at the figure with the cross.
- If it gets much worse we’ll be heading as usual to the USA or Canada or Australia . said The Cross bearer absent mindedly .
- Now, Now that is no solution, whenever the going gets tough you just jump over the fence. (B.T).
- We have always paid the price for your mistakes, and you are to many for us, why fight a lost battle. ( Cross Bearer)
- But you are actually the natives! you should put up a fight. (W.T)
- Ha Ha Ha I wont even bother to answer that one, ( Cross Bearer)
- Anyway mate you just have to sit and watch how we rule the nation for a change, said Black Turban.
- With whose army? our neighbor’s I suspect said White Turban .
- We don’t deny that some of our neighbors are more attractive to us than others.(B.T)
- Come on do you think that America has come all this way, spent that much money to hand it all over to people they spent decades plotting against .(W.T)
- Well, we all know that America is renowned for it’s rather short sighted strategies .Who knows may be they just had enough and they‘ll hand it all to us, declare it a victory for democracy and go back home , besides we were much more disciplined then you, our parts were much more safer than yours , they want stability we will give them stability and they wont care how we achieve that stability , besides my friend we are the majority.(B.T).
- Why forge the votes then if you are sure you are the majority? you are not, even among your own you are not the majority .(W.T)
- By the way, where is our friend from the north ? asked B.T.
- Oh, he is monitoring carefully developments ,to pick the right ally , the wining ally that is , answered W.T.
- What if America decides to line you with Iran, to hit you both eventually , I mean using you as an excuse to hit Iran - the Iraqi Roulette intervened suddenly forgetting the fear, since the subject was so interesting- hm hm ….what do you think is going to happen next do you think that they will choose another ally to back now , do you think they will force a re election ?, do you think they will loose their temper with the renewal of military actions in the west part again, and decide the whole thing is not worth it ? hm hm hm ... do you think they are pushing it towards a civil war or a war between militias at least, in order to divide Iraq? You know it is all part of the Zion’s dream, you know Israel from Euphrates to The Nile or the other way round as my paranoiac primary school teacher used to tell us ? hm hm hm … . The three wise men looked at the anxious mixed up Iraqi and decided to withdraw , they stood and ascended steadily up the dark starry sky . Iraqi Roulette chased them, and tried to climb the low fence of the roof , : Where are you going? you must answer please I’ve got work tomorrow and I am going crazy, I want to know what is next , what does this all mean..? the pleading voice little by little and desperately was silenced as the figures vanished .

Old Iraqi Roulette had no further intercourse with the Spirits of elections , but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle; to never ever watch news again, especially on Christmas eves .
God Bless Us, Every One!

17/12/2005

2005-12-17T03:48:00.000-08:00

The Day After the day !

All Iraqis are watching with astonishment on local and Arabic channels reports about the unprecedented success of list 555 , people dancing up and down holding portraits of religious leaders celebrating the victory ! . And worse of all, our very own Condoleeza Rice i.e. Mowafaq al Rubai is popping in and out of these channels talking about forming a government since they have won indisputably! , He said - we will contact the ( small parties) and offer our vision of the future, we have the right now to appoint our own PM !. Now this is terrorizing , also reports say that they have been terrorizing voters especially in southern and middle governorates, where the power of religion is present and simple people are made to think that they are disobeying God if they do not vote properly . Other reports suggest that many voters even were terrorized by local police men who are obviously members of certain pro Iranian militias . A press conference held moments ago , where Safia al Suhail and other members of 731 explained the situation and how such irresponsible announcements especially by a government official is bound to confuse the voters and send a wrong message that they are already in charge and will give many the right to act accordingly .
It is likely that the Party is over and every one is going to roll their sleeves up now and get on with the cleaning up ! . Poor poor us!!

15/12/2005 afternoon

2005-12-15T03:08:00.000-08:00

After a freaky night of voices in the dark telling the dwellers of Baghdad that their water is poisoned . I woke up at about 11 , I went downstairs , his Dad’s Ship was having a bath, so I presumed that everything was a rumor after all . But the sound of warning deep voices in the silence of the night… brrrrrrrrrrrrrr… reminds me of the scene from the Bible, you know the calamities that hit Egypt.
Anyway that in the past .
We went out to vote , our neighbor popped his head from behind the wall –
Hello Abu ……. Hurry up it is getting crowded I already went at 8 o’clock, and even then there were a lot of people - he said to my Dad..
When we got to the center , there was a brawl of some kind, people from other areas were told they had to wait for instructions to go somewhere else to vote .. wow fighting to vote that is good . When you have a right you must use it .On the way back me and my family were reading the posters from the ground cause there were more posters there than on the wall .
- Wow look there is Ahmed Radhi, he is cute , a lot of women’s votes are going to that group , the old men from 618 know what they are doing…. And look Al Badran is smiling over a vast desert , is that desert in England ? …… Ahmend al Chalabi is wearing a polo neck jumper; God he loves himself , And the icing on the cake is 555 , it looks more like a horror movie poster, why don’t they use it in Buffy the Vampire Slayer or something….

I must go and sleep now , to much Excitement for one day and night ...

15/12/2005

2005-12-14T16:00:00.000-08:00

It is three o'clock in the morning (Baghdad Time) , I was disturbed by a relative phoning to warn us not use tap water " It has been poisoned " , What ??? . I have been hearing that rumor for a while , has it happened really.
Now , I am hearing clearly the local Mosques warning people through loud speakers not to use Tap water , this is Awful .
Please God let this just be a rumor.

13/12/2005

2005-12-13T06:57:00.000-08:00

Politicians are sharpening their teeth , with all these… well… funny commercials they are running on most channels … if life was not that hard I would have actually enjoyed myself Watching them.
The recent government has failed Iraqis in everyway, with great success. Although they seem to have entirely different information from where they are , they insist that everything is going fine . A week or two ago Our PM made a speech where he was counting all the achievements he managed to accomplish. I was silent when he talked about the security, because how would he know anyway it is not as if he walks around the streets like other mortals. As he went on I did not really pay much attention , but when he said -electricity improved- I howled like a wounded wolf , especially with the street generator roaring and a summer spent in hell like heat , but then again how would he know. Didn’t his minister deny when a hundred and something tortured men were found in Al Jadria shelter last month, that there were such cases at all .
What everyone fears is a further relapse, although many say we have already hit the bottom, reached the worst and there is no where worse to reach . But still a religious autocracy was not what most of Iraqis had in mind . No one thought that after suffering for so long the oppressed will turn in to oppressors .
Assassinations are carried out to settle disagreements just like before but now by different parties , well I guess that is some kind of pluralism !.
Muzher Al Dulaimi was assassinated today , only yesterday I watched a TV debate where he was talking of his plans and today another war casualty , I mean an election casualty .

5/12/2005

2005-12-05T12:39:00.000-08:00

Again I sat watching the trial of Saddam , it looks like this is going to be one hell of a soap opera : delay, interruptions and cheering in the court room . I know this is a third world country trial ,but can’t that sweet sweet judge tell the suspects to respect the court and be quite ,when others are trying to talk ? .
Anyway the real shimmering star of the trrial this time was Barzan Saddam’s half Brother, the major suspect of Al Dijale carnage , he wrote very reasonable notes and was discussing every one of them with the judge , he was even asking for his own witnesses .. No, no what ever you say Barzan by far surpassed his Big Brother, who stood telling the same old story of how they did not give him a pen for the tenth time . Barzan said he is a lawyer himself although , he added: I did not practice like you your honor …. He was even interrogating the witness himself at a stage ... But, alas no matter how civilized he tried to seem ,he could not keep his temper, he occasionally exploded in frenzy and yeld at the witness …: You jerboa , go back and chop some date palms .. he spat at someone sitting somewhere in the room , banging on the table gesticulating , no, no he made an effort that must be said .

The trial will be resumed on Wednesday. It will be the topic of discussion wherever you step , some will see him as ( a hero : did you see how he stood and shouted ; what a macho ), others will remember all the agony, pain and smells of the dungeons and see him as ( the living proof on the existence of a God above ) .

Truth is seldom simple as you see …..

My advise is to hire a copy of Nuremburg starring Alec Baldwin and …. ; Enjoy .

3/12/2005

2005-12-03T09:12:00.000-08:00

A friend sent me this classical joke some time ago ,the author is unknown , anyway it helped to cheer me up

Why did the chicken cross the road?

The answer by all the great minds in history:

Rene Descartes : to get to the other side of the road.
Plato : For the chicken, truth lies at the other side of the road
Aristotle : It is within the chicken’s nature .
Karl Marx : It is a historical necessity .
Captain James Kirk : To reach where no other chicken has been before
Martin Luther King : I have a dream of a world, where chickens can cross the road not needing to explain or justify their actions.
Richard Nixon: The chicken did not cross the road , I repeat the chicken did not cross the road
Micaville : The important thing is that the chicken actually crossed the road .. it is not important to know why .. the chicken’s purpose was to get to the other side of the road, which justifies the means or motivations the chicken had.
Freud : Taking interest in the crossing issue reveals a disorderly sexual sub consciousness
Buddha : Asking that question is denying the nature of the chicken
Charles De gaul : Perhaps the chicken crossed the road but it did not cross the Autostradde yet.
Einstein : Whether it was the chicken that crossed the road or the road moving beneath the chicken’s feet, it is a question of relativity
George W. Bush : The fact that the chicken was able to cross that road, getting to the other side without being punished in spit of all UN resolutions is a challenge before democracy and freedom and justice . And which confirms to us that we should have destroyed that road a long time ago to maintain peace in that region , to defend all the values we stand for. We shall send our forces over there , we shall send 2000 tanks supported by 243000 marines , 846 micelles , their mission will be to destroy all chicken farms in that region , then we will make sure through intensive micelle attacks that our targets have been flattened … no other chicken will ever dare to defy international law any more .
Our government will help rebuild those chicken farms according to international law , and our American Ambassador will appoint a cock ,to be elected through free democratic elections.
And to finance the process of rebuilding we shall control the revenues of grain temporarily for about 30 years , so that all chickens will benefit from competitive pricing in exchange for their full cooperation .
Under this new system, where justice freedom and peace prevails .. we can rest assure that no other chicken will try to cross any road again , simply cause their wont be any roads to cross or chicken legs to cross with …

2005-11-29T13:15:00.000-08:00

The Trial

..” Please , allow me to speak , may I just clarify one thing, I did not sleep the other night cause I sat writing an appeal to you your honor …..” that is what he said ..
Please !!!! May I !!!! Was that really the brutal Dictator that terrorized us, and used to scare the living day lights out of me.

Yes, my friends Life is like a stormy sea one wave raises you so high you can almost touch the clouds ,while another wave plunges you down flat on your face.
I always used to believe firmly that to judge a person you have to know him when he was strong and triumphant , only then one shows his true colors , yet when defeated and weak , anyone becomes meek , vulnerable , even kind .
The next morning me and the gang at office were discussing the trial , one said
- why was the Judge so polite? why did he not exercise more authority in the court . The rest of us thought that the Judge was very civilized and impartial and that is how it should be actually : - Yes but that butcher showed no mercy to anyone when he was at the top .
- Well lets say that it is his good luck that he has such a trial : Yeh, he was always lucky and got away with anything ,including invading other countries ,using chemical weapons and turning everything he touched into ashes . Even now he is finding people defending him under the excuse that life has become even more rotten now.
Now that is lucky , minds are changing in his favor , many have already forgotten what used to happen then , having witnessed the horrors of the present . Any way we concluded our forum in the office , recalling when his brother Barzan was saying …His Excellency the president of Iraq .. ,most of us thought he was referring to his brother , but he continued …Mr. Jalal Talabani , Well well , his own brother has come to terms with it , so why don’t the rest.

20/11/2005

2005-11-20T05:46:00.000-08:00

A logic axiom

Socrates is a Human being
Human beings are mortal
= Socrates is mortal
Right

Saddam is Evil
Saddam is finished
= Evil is finished
Wrong ; refer to Abu Ghraib , Al Jadriea Shelter, phosphorous bombs in faluja etc…..

Let’s try again :

Saddam was a barbarian
The world was against him
= The world is not barbarian i.e. Civilized
Wrong again : refer to Abu Ghraib , Al Jadriea Shelter, phosphrous bombs in faluja etc…..

The conclusion :- Socrates was a dupe, human beings are beyond repair .

Correct the above mentioned axiom to :

…. It is the law of the Jungle Mowgli… (an axiom by Bagheera , another great philosopher )

…. Does one need to mention , that the horror shelters, the mysterious eerie houses, in which people enter, yet do not exit are back. The Houses of pain , Bone break Hotels are reopened upon persistent demand after proving that this is the only verified way to rule this ungrateful nation of half starving women and bare foot children and handicapped men from the countless recent wars … What !!! are you people still alive ?? Is there actually still a generation in Iraq that has not had it's dosage of concentration camps yet ?? Is there any one that accidentally has not enjoyed the exclusive services of “The world of Cables” previously , – “The World of Drills “ at the present -*??? . Sorry folks we led you to the illusion that it was over, and someone is actually here to help , we apologize sincerely , Well we are trying to correct this unforgivable error , we are even working overtime to make it up ….
……But, by the way who are we really ???

Conversation of the deaf :

Q. : Why were those tortured people found in that shelter and what do you know about it?
The Minister : First of all, I invite you all to go there and see for yourselves , the liars they said there were 170, while they were only 7 , and that place, it was only temporary the liars they claimed there are many of such houses .
Q . The question was not where or how much, it was WHY ? Why were there such cases?
The Minister : The people you saw were the worst terrorists ever …..
Q: the question is not who, it is WHY ….. Ohhhh just leave it .

Dilemma
I f you write about your fears , you are a pessimist , negative and destructive.
If you write ironically out of mere pain , you are numb sensed and are trying to make fun of the ailments of your fellow citizens.
If you are write optimistically and try to look at the bright side and the full half of the glass you are an idiot and you are fantasizing for the benefit of "you know who ….."

I agree that there is nothing to be optimistic about anymore, especially after the events of last week , A very wise man once said : a pessimist is a better informed optimist .

* Anyone who has been locked up at the time of Saddam talked about electrocuting and beating by thick cables , now bodies are found with pierced bones by drills, it is becoming nearly an autograph.

5/11/2005

2005-11-05T09:17:00.000-08:00

Happy Eid every one !

Here it is again , The Eid , after a month of fasting and supplications for peace on earth, well if not on earth, just Iraq will be sufficient .

Although, things have been morbid long enough people are clenching on to a very fine end of something like hope to hang on to .
As many of you know, the Eid is a time for visiting, and visiting means lots and lots of political discussions . For a while now I’ve been as desperate as can be , I’ve been having nightmares of an autocratic religious semi Iranian government , I wake up in cold sweat yelling Noooooooooooo…… not the Mullas, please God almighty anything but that .
And I actually gave up .Well, not absolutely , but nearly .

The Second day of The Eid a dear dear friend of ours came with his family to visit, he is a prominent lawyer from Basrah . We all sat talking and exchanging the latest ,I have to mention;he is a chronicle optimist, an optimist beyond help and cure ……

He told us that Shias now, especially the intelligentsia have had enough , and they are not going to put up with any semi literate clergy men any more., he told us that Basrah has been actually converted to a small Islamic republic under the noses of the Brits , no woman even dares to go out without a proper scarf and robe, the colleges are play grounds for all sorts of fanatics, imposing their improvised rules that have actually nothing to do with religion, and Basrah now is also a center of drug smuggling from Iran to Iraq , Oil is also being smuggled peacefully and the benefactors are well known .

- So far there is nothing to be happy about. I said
– Apparently , but observe what is developing from all this : Najaf and Karbala are not better , Sistani has declared ( at last ) that he does not support any one, thus not repeating the drastic mistake he made last time supporting al Hakeem, Jafari ,Chalabi package, ,which obliged most Shias then to follow his advice or rather “decree” to be more accurate . Al Sader , unstable and disturbed as he is ,yet still enjoying popularity in the streets left Al Hakeem after the latter declared that he joined him . All that isolates the hard liners , and with all the mess they have been causing, with all the assassinations carried out by them , it will certainly cost them seats and ultimately the whole Government .
- But what if the votes are faked like during the referendum, I said
– Well we just have to hope not , it is the last chance or , else welcome the Spanish inquisition once more .
– In other words you fear the same things I do , you have the same information , but you are an optimist and I am a pessimist , am I missing some thing here? .
– I have still not lost faith and trust in the Iraqi intelligentsia , I believe it will prevail in the end .
I really needed that , I choose to live on that hope too.

Mister, Mister , Welcome to our neighborhood !

Before the Eid I was sitting in the office daydreaming , our office driver was hanging around chatting ,since the Boss of all bosses hadn’t arrived yet. A friend of his came in , And sat down in our room, after greeting us and introducing himself he started reproaching his mate :-
- You so and so, why the hell didn’t you call all the past week ,didn’t you bother to take interest where I got to ?
- I called, and your phone was locked each time , I thought you were abroad or something with your boss.
- Indeed I was ! I was in Paris you know.
- Were you? what did you get me ?
- I’ll get you killed , I was arrested for a whole week, that is where I was .
- Why didn’t your wife call me ? honestly I had no idea, Sorry.
I looked at him curiously , but I was too shy to ask him what had happened . I didn’t wait long he started telling us :
- I was out doors building my fence with a couple of workers , I live near Al Saidia , a dangerous place as you know . So, several American military vehicles were driving along our lane, a soldier was sticking out of one vehicle, he was standing up for some reason .A brick or stone hit him right in the forehead , believe me, he started bleeding immediately . And that was it ! . they came down with there translator :-
- Come on you lot , all of you , hands on heads and march . We tried to explain , the translator was on our side, trying to alleviate the situation . No use ,and off we went , arrested, the whole lane .

He continued :- They let the old men out in three days, but us middle aged men -he said laughing loudly - were kept for a whole week , and were released only after the Head of some sort of committee in our Area intervened . On the way home, we remember how the old men were shouting , and ranted :- whose kid was that any way ? , was it yours , or yours … a fact, which by the way remains an unsolved mystery till this day. We also carried out our own serious interrogation, with the children when we all got home, without any success , the kids were adamant not to give away any details .

One bit of crucial information : Iraqi children are gurus in hunting sparrows and pigeons, with a special devise called ( Gazwa or Musiada ), it is manufactured manually , using pieces of wood linked together to form a Y shape,and wrapped firmly with strips of black old rubber obtained from old torn car tires , then a strip of elastic rubber is tied at the two upper ends like a loop , an extra rectangle of leather is sowed or tied in the middle of that strip, where the stone is to go .The hunter I mean the child holds the weapon's base in one hand aiming it at the victim ,while pulling the loop like strip with the stone secured in the leather bit, as far as he can with the other hand , then snap… bang ….AAAAAH , Whose damn kid was that ? , , casualties vary from birds to stray cats or dogs, windows and recently soldiers…..
Note the same weapon was used in the ancient world !

Cinderella !

My friend who lives in Khadraa is living practically in the front , although the front is getting larger and larger every day. She told me that every now and then there is a raid to search houses for weapons after policemen or solders have been hit.
The other day while they were sitting watching TV , they heard explosions and machine guns shooting , the next thing they saw was about 10 guards in the front porch knocking on their window . They marched in shouting , her husband politely told them to go ahead ( as if it mattered what he said ) . The officer went up stairs and he was shouting back to the husband : By god if I find one, just one blank bullet on your roof I’ll wrap you and take you down to the station .He came down , the mother in law of my friend asked him to calm down and sit to have something to eat if he is not fasting he refused puffing and panting , and continued : Aunty, this neighborhood of your is nothing but trouble , we wouldn’t of come in if not for the evidence we found near you door step .
- What evidence son ?
- This -he said holding out proudly one slipper- this, we found in front of your door
- Of course, they ran from you leaving their slippers behind , no big deal , it is not as if it is ( Na’al Cinderella ) = Cinderella’s slipper .
The guards laughed and left.

Are these stories funny , or am I in a holyday spirit .

24/10/2005

2005-10-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

I was tagged by Cile , and since his wishes are my commands , therefore here they are:

7 things I plan to do:
1. Win a lotto prize , the value of 500 000 $ , if that is to much to ask for 250 000$ will be
sufficient.
2. Walk in the streets and not get killed or disfigured.
3. Finish my book and get published .
4. Exercise for at least 15 minutes or 10 or even 5 minutes and keep it going for at least a
week.
5. A tour across Europe
6. Get my Ph.D.
7. Preserve my sanity .

7 things I can’t do:
1. Wonder carelessly around the world ,thinking about the mystery of creation, and writing my
observations down ( that is why I plan to win a lotto prize).
2. Walk safely in the streets.
3. Exercise regularly .
4. Figure out a lot of things and anyone who says he has all the answers is actually deluded.
5. Get published .
6. Help the people I would like to help.
7. Meet Kafka , Chekov , Markez, Dali …

7 things I can do:
1. Finish my book.
2. Exercise for one day then give up.
3. Read the books I’ve bought , borrowed or stolen.
4. Drive my boss crazy.
5. Still enjoy films .
6. Have an opinion on what is going on , , although I am not really effecting any global
process.
7. Thank God for little mercies.

7 words I use often
1. Hello ( not necessarily to greet someone ; Hello? , hello (horror and awe), hello (sarcasm) ,
hello (disapproval ) …etc.
2. Allah Kareem ( God is generous ).
3. No, this place is to hot, they shouldn’t have built a town here in the first place.
4. Mahzala ( it is absurd , It is a farce / about eveything ).
5. Superkalafragelistic ( from the Mary Popins film).
6. I can Dream can’t I ?
7. If ……

I don't really know, who to tag these questions to so , sorry for that .

20/10/2005

2005-10-22T22:21:00.000-07:00

Today at about 12 , a blast shook Al Mansour Area . Dijla Primary school was hit by a missile . The Children ,and needless to say their parents ,who raced like crazy to the scene, got the shock of their lives. Children said it was class 5th -A- ( children in that stage are about 10 years old) , three people were killed, one of them a little girl, a little pink rucksack with a Barbie doll picture on it stained with her innocent blood was what remained of her .
Why a school ? Because near that school there is a Company , a foreign Company, and rumors have been suggesting for a while, that Americans and all sorts of aliens have been going in and out of that Co., of course you understand how rumors can build up it may as well be an ordinary Iraqi Co. , but who cares the verdict has been issued . Anyway true or false it resulted in a tragedy this noon for the little ones.

19/10/2005
Today I have a personal tragedy . Yes indeed . You see, just as you get attached to people through your life time you also get attached to places and corners, specially in your home town, where most of your memories accumulated . It could be a park, an old tree even a fast food shop . Of course you understand it is not the beauty of the place that leads to such an attachment , it may not be a big deal to anyone else but you , as I said it’s all about the memories ,that bound you to the place .
I got in terms over the years with the fact that places change just like people , it is a part of growing up . But, when the change is afflicted by people the impact doubles . .Today, my mate at the office told me that the Statue of Abu Jafar AL Mansour was blasted .
What ? how come? ,when ?
- Yes, today , in the early hours of this morning .
- Oh no, please say it isn’t so , I did not hear anything .
- Why are you so upset ?
- You don’t understand, I loved that monument .Suspicious looks attacked me from everywhere .
- No, honestly as far as I remember it has been there . I remember that when the school bus used to drop me when I was a child of 6 to school, reaching the statue was an indication that we reached hell moth ( i.e. school ), and on the way back, when we passed the statue again it was an indication that the day is over and in moments we are going to bee back home to Mum’s embrace . Hundreds of other small things that form my life and my childhood revolves around that place ,where we lived .
- Who did it? and why ?. A Sunni co worker said “ I was told it was Bader Brigade, cause they think that he is a tyrant ,who killed holy men. ( We are talking centuries ago here !!!).
A Shii co worker snapped back aggressively:
- Oh yeh, Well I have different information. I was told that the Kurds are going around targeting all genuine Arabic monuments . I intervened, knowing what these discussion can lead to : - Just let it stand there for God’s sake , who was it troubling . Now it will never be restored, they will replace it with some tasteless statue or something related to this militia or that .
History is History, you just have to take it as it is without omitting things according to politics or religion. One should be completely impartial about it because these are facts : materialistic facts . In Moscow for instance, the church of St. Basil was built in the era of Ivan the terrible himself ,no one demolished that , the pyramids were constructed by power crazed pharos , many monuments were kept from the era of Stalin in Russia ,even though the whole era was reevaluated by Russians, cause monuments do not involve only kings and rulers, they involve people and time . What will be next . Will they decide that Babylon ( or what is left over from Babylon by international looters ) was built by an infidel, therefore it must be wiped away .

Saddam’s Trial

Saddam’s Trial is supposed to be the trail of the century , For the world may be , but for most Iraqis it is just passing by as any other event . A couple of years ago, to see the dictator in a cage was a thought no one even dared to think just in case the Mukhbarat have imported from the west some gadgets or apparatus, which may read one’s thoughts . Yet, now this event has as we say in Iraq “lost it’s taste” . We have been through so much the past three years, that numbers seem to make anyone confused . AL Digale Saddam’s master piece massacre, which seemed three years ago so gruesome ( he executed 143 people in a rage of revenge for an assassination attempt) does not impress anyone now with what has been going on . 143 , 150 , 200 300 1000 are now daily casualties . Torture, Rape, violation of human rights are also a daily dose ,that Iraqis have to take . Saddam prosecuted people on mere suspicion , that is exactly what is happening now in “liberated Iraq” . Human right watchers are reporting the same shocking reports . The chambers of horror are reopened and the fire is being nourished with fresh bodies by invaders, fanatics and criminals .
Hard times are here to stay.

2005-10-13T12:03:00.000-07:00

13/10/2005

To be locked up in the house for a while is not so bad after all. In fact it is great to lie about watching all the Ramadhan TV serials and cooking programs . The break is for four days , four days enjoying living in an aquarium ,which I decided to isolate myself in from any thing that reminds me of where I live and what is going on out there in a terrifying place called Baghdad . The purpose and meaning of my life these days is to watch my favorite series ( Nizar Qabani) on Dubai TV base on the biography of my favorite poet . One of the greatest poets of the 20th century - to my mind that is- .He was denounced at a stage of his life as an infidel ,and fanatics detest him till this day .
Ah… how can one forget his ( Fortune teller , The school of love or the Memoirs of an Arabic executer )… I love Nizar Qabani. I am entranced every evening at 11 o’clock by the finest poems, but he ( the poet I mean ) threw me right back to where I belonged , when he said -and that was back in the mid forties:
- “..We will achieve our independence ,that is not what troubles me .The French will leave us eventually there is no doubt about that , but remember and mark my words there is no independence without freedom , independence without personal freedom is lame . We shall remain for decades to come without freedom if our mentality stays as it is “ .
And his prophecy came true . The colonizers left us in the hands of dictators and the dictators left us again in the hands of colonizers and the story goes on .
I felt what Nizar said hit very close to home , it seemed as if we had been frozen for what? 50 years: the same problems ,the same issues the same guardians imposing thought in which we do not believe , so I decided to do something useful and read a book . I have been reading lately "Zorba the Greek" , I read …
Zorba said to the boss when the poor widow was slaughtered:
– Do any of these books explain to you why people die like that ?
- No, Zorba all these books are written by wise men who are seeking answers to questions like that .
- Then I spit on all your books boss.
I decided then to read the constitution draft once more although I promised not to.
This time it was the final version . We collected it yesterday from our local shop ,where we usually get our ration . I wrote about it before(July Post) , the same awkward issues are still there, I don’t see much change in them .
First section article( 2) Islam is the official religion of the state and is a main source of legislation (a) No law is to be issued if proven to contradict with Islam’s laws.
Well , the concept of Islam or to be more accurate the understanding of Islam defers from one group to another .Even in the most obvious issues there are differences in interpretation , which means that any progressive new law can be refuted if viewed to contradict with Islam . Here we’ll have to have clergy men and legislators who are really open minded and enlightened , which is a hard task .

Second section
Article 36(3)The right of demonstration is regulated by law .
That may be the case in many countries, I mean you have to obtain a permit to demonstrate and it is your right to demonstrate peacefully, but a law issued for that purpose may have implications such as determining the issues that you may demonstrate peacefully on .

Article 38
States that Iraqis are free to determine their personal status according to their religion , believes and choice . That sounds perfect , yet this strengthens sectarian division in issues as divorce , inheritance and marriage . The husband or wife may choose as they see convenient “which may not be fare always” the way to settle their disputes . I know this is complicated to understand even for some Muslims, I’ll try to explain it with an example: if a man is a Sunni and the wife is a shii or visa versa, when it comes to divorce she may demand settlement according to shia laws and he will do the same demand a settlement according to sunni laws , so what would the judge decide?, or more properly stated :What is the criteria he bases his judgment on? .You see this may lead to a situation, where disputing parties decide to take disputes to sectarian courts. But if it is all regulated by one law it would be more fair for both parties .

And now they decided to amend the items after four months from the elections of a new government . The role of the government has been postponing and pushing things along as time goes by , not one problem has actually been solved yet .
The news reported, that Sistani has issued a fatwa urging his followers to vote YES , Now that is not playing fair at all. So is it going be a NO then ???…..

2005-09-29T00:12:00.000-07:00

26/9/2005

I know this is going to sound like I am mysteriously present wherever there is a disaster ,but it is not my fault, honestly !. There are just …– I quote here Mr. Phil Collins – “..There are too many people making too many problems” .
Yesterday, I was actually close enough to death to start an affair with him -. I will be grateful if death maintains his distance in future ..thank you very much..- .
So, there I was walking minding my own business around 12:45, my back towards the statue of his majesty Abu Jafar Al Mansour , you know the chap who built Baghdad ,and he called it the City of peace too, Bless him… Any way, I just finished collecting a passport for a senior relative , I was trotting along ..I even decided to buy some cheese on my way .Out of nowhere four cars raced towards the Bank in that peaceful mainly residential area ( tow high schools in the same street, one opposite the bank and another a few blocks away) .The armed gang in these cars started firing excessively just about 200 meters from the statue on their way to the Bank straight ahead , there where also other members of the gang ,who appeared and fired or rained with bullets a car with employees from the Ministry of Finance transferring cash to or from the Bank I am not sure .They slaughtered them at the place and drove away after taking the car . The panic that happened was beyond description, a couple of school kids were running around in panic seeking refuge in the near shops , pedestrians crouched behind cars . I was never good at sports in fact I was a constant disappointment to any sports teacher that had to coach me through all my school and college days, but I jumped I think about 1.5 meters backwards “pay attention to backwards” . When it all happened I can’t say that I recorded everything in my malfunctioning brain . It all started to fit together a couple of minutes later. Men rushed to the crime scene and civilian cars owned by chivalrous Iraqis pulled over to pick up the dead (a man said they were three dead and one heavily injured ) but I can’t say I counted I was not that close and it all happened so fast . The culprits drove away with the trophy leaving these unfortunate employees killed at the end of bloody working day . A young boy came with blood stained hands , he said he helped lift one of the corpses, he was trembling like a leave on a windy day ,and I was trembling even stronger, my hands were as cold as ices and I could not keep my knees steady . The execution was very professional , carried out with precision , they knew exactly the time the car was supposed to move and where exactly to catch it .
I tell you I have witnessed three wars in my wretched life , so bombing and shooting is not a novelty to me, but to snuggle up in your bed cuddling your pillow , shaking and reciting all you know from the Koran is one thing, and to be caught out side with bullets soaring over your head ,seeing people running about seeking cover is entirely another .. Well, I was so sad and hurt for those people who died I had a fever that night .

2005-09-18T23:15:00.000-07:00

18/9//2005

The bleeding goes on , no one to stop it . More assassinations taking a more random pattern . In Al Ameria today to stores were flattened to ground by an explosion . Bodies are being found on daily basis is various parts of the country . A lot of these assassinations are carried out by men in uniforms . They come pretending they have orders to search a place or arrest someone, and families are slaughtered thus . When incidents like these are reported no one can confirm anything . Rumors blame various parties starting from foreign secret agencies and militias to ordinary killers.
A high ranking official was killed in Al Iskanderia in the south , the assassins came in official cars, armed, in uniforms and entered his very well protected house , shout him with tens of his guards .This is an example that can be explained he is an official , but how can the killing of workers or students be explained in Areas like Al Doura , locals think it is to drive as much people out of the area as possible .

Poetry and Blood

When you are cooped up in a house or an office you don’t really imagine what is going on if the events are relatively far from your location , you are unable to assess the devastation right away .
That day “Wednesday the 14th” , I thought that the tragic blast in AL Kadhumia would be the share of the day . Later that morning we heard that something was going on in AL Ghazalia and al Shulaa too . I left office after half an hour cause I had to go to the other side of the town to finish some business there , What a day to pick! but , no one knew what laid ahead . I finished at about 12:30 and was stuck in a taxi for more than three hours just to cross from Al Risafa to Al Karkh .
The Taxi driver was an old man: Grey hair, gray beard and moustache and a gray shirt . I told him my destination , he paused for a moment then said “ I think I can , hop in “ He asked me if I had heard where the last explosion was :
- You mean Al Kadhimia explosion?
- No, that was early this morning , there were more….
- I am not sure . before we said more we heard another explosion that shook the car.
- I think that would be in Alawi Al Hilla the driver said . The police ordered everyone to stay in their cars and kill the engines immediately . No one was allowed even to walk . We obeyed helplessly .
The old driver was very kind and patient. I was afraid that he would start analyzing and reviewing the current political situations , or he would start reciting all the conspiracy theories he knew using the time we have . I was really not in the mood for that : what is there to analyze? we are being exterminated , we are the last of the Mohicans . 200 civilians / day is too much even for China’s population . If he starts I said to myself “ I’ll certainly cry my head off”.
The old man turned towards me and asked with a smile :
- Do you know that song ? .
- Sorry ?
I realized he was referring to the loud song playing from the radio in the neighboring car .
- Yes I’ve heard it before ,I said
- It is a song from my time not yours , the words are so beautiful don’t you agree?
- Yes…. I listened with the old man , it was a song from the late sixties or early seventies I wasn’t sure . The hoarse masculine voice sang along :

Your image dozes in my eyes from the days of youth till this instant
Your reflection was my guest as I slept and as I awoke
I sprinkled the days of my life on your path,
thinking your love would last
I never ever thought that your infatuation,
was that of one night and one day

- Splendid, the old man went on …- the police men were shooting in the air and the sounds of ambulances sirens raged, a thud or two were heard from where we were- …you know, I heard one of these new things they call songs it went “ I’ll play on you if you’ll play on me “ rubbish , absurd , Do they actually pay them to sing such stuff ? Do you know Muthafar Al Nawab ?
- Yes , I’ve heard about him lately , I mean after the war I started seeing his books everywhere , My Dad recognized him when they showed him on TV the other day .
- He is a great poet . The Baathies hated him and banned his poems. They even banned his love poems , they saw a political message in everything he wrote . Yeh , you wouldn’t find “ The train and Hammad” in any school book .
- Is it good I haven’t read it ?
- It starts : Oh train wail sadly if Hammad passes by … he uses an old name for train ( Rale ) there is a story behind it you know .
I don’t know how genuine the story is but it is strong. The old man told me that the poet was traveling by train. He sees a young woman crying so he sits next to her and asks her if he can help . She tells him her story , She had been in love with a boy from her village since she was a little girl , they grow up and their love grows with them .When he proposes her family doesn’t approve , so they decide to run away together and get married . After a while he misses his mother and tells his wife that he will go to visit her secretly. The young woman had a strange feeling but eventually lets him go for one day , three days pass by without a sign of him, so she decides to go and look for him herself .The poet goes with her in case she needs anything. When they get off the train and enter the village they see that there is a funeral : Hammad’s funeral. Her brothers killed him. She dies shortly after him . So : Oh train wail sadly if Hammad passes by …
A few hours later I got to a relative’s house in Al Risafa . I doubled the old man’s fee for all the trouble he went through , but he refused inflexibly .
Only when I returned home I realized what God had saved us from . The next day the first thing I did was search the internet for the poems of the famous poet of the sixties, the sixties : the time when life was reasonable and when young people’s greatest concern was to love and be loved in return .

2005-09-14T22:11:00.000-07:00

14/9/2005

May be it is related to Tel Afar or may be not. It is not that important any more it has happened …. Another Bloody Wednesday ( refer to all the other tragedies that hit Iraq recently ,they all occurred mystically and exclusively on Wednesdays) .
All the signs of a new gory period have been lurking for a couple of days .
Early this morning an explosion roared in Al Kadhimia. I read that in the news subtitle of Al Arabia channel . I got more details when I reached the office , they said that the victims were workers standing waiting for a job . In Iraq there are specials waiting spaces in most areas, where builders and workers gather for any one who may have a job, for instance contractors may go there if they have a house to demolish or build , a house owner who wants to repair his house or garden . So , what happens is that when any car stops it is usually an employer, the workers gather to hear his offer and what ever number required for the job goes after reaching an agreement . This time they gathered and the “employer” made them an offer they just couldn’t refuse . The car exploded reaping again the most unfortunate . More than 80 were killed and 150 wounded dangerously in that one explosion .

A horrid execution was carried out in Al Taji .17 men were dragged out of their beds this morning and executed by men in uniform.
Ameria.,Wazireah. Hay Al Adel , Al Shulaa also had their share . All the streets and bridges were blocked ,and everyone I know had someone stuck in some area of Baghdad and just couldn’t get through where they needed .
God have mercy

2005-09-11T13:16:00.000-07:00

8/9/2005

Staying alive.

Baghdad has been recuperating with difficulty from the tragedy of the Bridge. People are fearing that things are going to worsen . New measures are being taken, many of them are quite silly , no one can actually figure out what they mean or understand them, not because they are sophisticated but because they are .. well as I said silly .

I woke up with a morbid disposition. The moment I opened my eyes and realized I am still alive, I felt tired already .

The mere thought of getting up to face the streets with all the black cloth signs hanging on the walls mourning the dead made my heart bleed . Going out to work is like walking in a mine field , you just have to keep your fingers crossed and hope you return safely .
When ever you hear a bang ,you automatically rush to your phone , you dial the number , blood freezes in your veins if there is any delay , you hear the familiar voice at the other end “ thank good you’re Ok , where was it don’t you know?” , you sigh with relieve … for the time being at least.
I pulled myself out of bed and sat watching the news. I watched Madam Katrina’s grim fandango on the stages of Mississippi . My despair became unbearable .
At least hear in Baghdad I can blame the Americans, Saddam , the government “the least I can do” , But there in Louisiana ,who can I blame for the misery.
A scene that really made me want to rise and salute the human soul, was an elderly African American man ,who stood on the wrecks of his house playing the blues on his trumpet.
I went dragging my feet to work .The Boss of all Bosses has been acting suspiciously kind lately , I thought: may be he understands life more philosophically now , may be he realizes that it is not worth the fuss he makes on daily basis , may be finally he understands what the Arab poet Abu Al Atahia said : “ Man, yet is a mortal, son of a mortal ,descendant from a deep-rooted tribe of mortals ” .
But Naaaaa , that was not the case actually . My mates told me that he is considering leaving the country and closing everything down : -To dangerous to go on- .
I swear I could hear a sad violin tune play somewhere .
- What ? where, shall we go then? .
Silence engulfed the surroundings ...
- I repeat where shall we all go then ?
No reply .
I went in and unveiled my computer, slaved for a couple of hours .
We spent the whole break turning the matter in our heads . What is there to do any way !. According to statistics that no one actually is bothered to confirm : unemployment has reached 80% of the population in a country that has so much work to do . Everywhere there are buildings to be built , services to maintain and establish , things to be imported and exported, patients to be treated,children to taught ….
The best chance that anyone can dream of now is to get a job abroad , no matter how or where . The sign of well fare is that if you have some one who is abroad - in Amman for instance- .

Now it seems like the whole idea was to find a substitute country ,where business could be run from well, from “not so wealthy Amman” , while “wealthy Iraq” is converted into a war zone . There seems to be no hurry to solve anything over here yet.
So, what shall we do ??? Try to get a job in a governmental establishment ? No way all the places are grabbed by people with connections , endorsed by some influential party members ( it used to be the Baath party before , now I’ve actually lost count) .

Ok, lets see , no foreign companies or embassies around and if there were it would be to risky , I mean there are things worth dying for I don’t think a job Is in the list .

What is left , private sector companies . There are a couple playing in the extra time of the match, but not for long as made clear .
So, what is left to do yes, yes.. wait for the fairy god mother to grant you your wish and hand you a job contract in Amman, more better in the United Arab Emirates, and if you are really disparate in Egypt.
For the time being “Allah Kareem” :( a typical phrase said in Iraq meaning God is generous , in other words there is always hope).

2005-09-04T09:25:00.000-07:00

3/9/2005
The week started as usual with discussions about the Constitution , Sunnis refusing items and promising to do some campaigning against it . Also,early this week detainees were released ,that subject was shortly forgotten by finding 36 corpses out in the middle of nowhere near the Iranian borders .

The usual chit-chat at the office recycling the same old stuff : What is better Saddam’s despotism or the massacres taking place now .Of course and as always we agreed not to agree. Me and two others though that killing was going on then but the culprit was well known unlike now. In other words killing now is random, while in the Time of Saddam it was more organized .
Older co workers thought we were crazy and stupid “ Numbers , Numbers is what matters. Saddam use to kill 250 /month in Baghdad, while during the last month in July only 1082 were killed “ -One of them yelled -waving Dan Murphy’s article published in Al Sabah newspaper under our noses- .
That was one recycled topic, the other favorite one was the possibility of a civil war in Iraq .
What? the possibility I said , do you mean it hasn’t started yet? . Do you think that a civil war should be declared somehow , or should the conflicting groups stand confronting each other: Shias dressed in Green Sunnis dressed in White and the cry CHARGE! will tear the skies. I don’t think so .
What do you think all these assassinations are supposed to mean? Dora and Ameriah have been no man's land long enough , ten men from my lot shot means ten from your lot randomly shot .
- Yes, but there can’t be a civil war in Iraq , families have been integrated for ages ,it is hard to tell which is a Sunni family or a Shii family, my brother is married to a Sunni ,-one of the old men said as usual when ever this topic is discussed- .
- Yes , the other old one said ,and my daughter is married to a Shii fellow..
- All that is cool, perhaps you will not kill you son in law, but that has nothing to do with the possibility of a civil war . If these assassinations escalate and take a certain model, which is by the way happening, such a war will be a fact before we have time to realise it , I said.
Assassinations are a daily fact in Iraq ,and as in any chaotic situation people try to comprehend and find an explanation for them, to feel more safe:“ Ah he is a previous Baathi, …. She works with the Americans … He is rich that’s why they kidnapped and killed him when he failed to pay a ransom … He is from this or that party, his opponents must have killed him “.
It has been a while now since reasonable explanations are succeeding to comfort anyone anymore.Ordinary people are being targeted without any convincing reasons, just for the mere sake of adding numbers to the lists . Sunnis are killed in retaliation to killing Shias and visa versa. Kurds and Christians are not spared from the equation too.
So how does a civil war start anyway?I remember watching a documentary film a year or two ago ,it was about the war in former Yugoslavia. A young Serbian soldier was telling his story : we lived with the Muslims like relatives, we visited them ,we celebrated with them, we played with them as children in the streets , we served in the Army together , and suddenly we just drifted apart , the gap that appeared did not form gradually it formed suddenly . He said : I really do not remember how we became enemies, it was like we went to bed friends and woke up enemies .., In Iraq you talk to any Shii he will say there is no difference at all we are all Muslims , You talk to a Christian he will say I love Muslims,in fact my best friends are Muslims , You talk to a Shii he will say I’ve lived my whole life with Sunnis they are my brothers . All that is perfect and believe me it is true in every case . Who is responsible for spreading seeds of fear from a Civil war then ?. Many are blaming the Media for agitation . I agree that the Media is powerful enough to do so . They can choose to talk about certain things and drop out other things according to the message they are trying to deliver : for instance I don’t think, that any one reported that a young man (a Sunni) from Al Adhmiaa Area(located at the other end of the Bridge where the tragedy happened last week), swam again and again to rescue Shias who fell in the Tigris till he eventually died himself, accomplishing that truly holy mission.The assuring thing up till now is that Iraqis “thank God for that” , are fully aware of these attempts to inflame a civil war in their country , also with the worsening of their lives they are consciously distinguishing between their politicians, they know now who is who and who is playing for which team .

Back to the stampede
Casualties have reached over a thousand and are expected to rise dramatically .A Friend said “ hundreds of bodies are still in the river , they are to float soon and then we shall see the number” . She told me that doctors were hanging blood bottles on the walls with tape, right in lobbies and corridors ,cause their wasn’t any other place . A lot of patients ,who were already there just went home limping or carried by their relatives since it was pointless to stay in the hospital further .
Many accusations and versions of the same story have been told .Is there a direct cause? . Well of course, the government failed to deal with a crises situation and that is understandable, it would have been a miracle if they had dealt with it properly . They should have warned people and frankly told them, that they are not ready for such pressure . (Everyone is wondering if the government hadn't interfered and the worse had happened -such as a car bomb for instance- ,perhaps casualties wouldn't have been so grave). Yet, a very reasonable question is being asked (fairly to my view) : Did the people really have to go ? They knew that they will be targeted , There is something called common sense after all ? Of course , it is not obligatory . But still they went .
Every one of them had a request, a wish, an unattainable dream: "to live safely for instance" , a loved one with an incurable disease, who nobody is even interested in helping any more , a missing husband , brother or son who has been arrested or abducted and no one is even caring to offer an answer to console ( did you notice how many women- young and old- were killed, well that fact speaks for itself ) .
There were 12 descendants of the Prophet Mohammed , all of them suffered significantly and were killed by various tyrants in heart breaking ways . That’s why the ill-fated tend to associate their suffering with the suffering of the holy 12 martyrs.And just as in the case of Christian Saints most people have a Patron saint ,whom they seeks comfort and protection in, they light candles for these saints , keep their portraits, name new born after them , and ask for justice invoking their names ,when praying to God.
Many intellectuals and highly educated look with irony to these practices . But when nothing works you always hope for miracles .
Al kadhim ( the name means he who curbs his anger this name was givent to him for his tolerance and patience) , suffered in prisons for years and eventually was poisoned being innocent. This is a very familiar story to all Iraqis, even Christians visit his holy shrine, when life becomes intolerable as it is.
In order to explain more without going through theological aspects, look at this story and try to cast all scientific thinking and try to understand the logic or rather the absence of logic, which corresponds with the absence of logic in the lives of Iraqis .
So, : after the tragedy of the Bridge we phoned friends , neighbors and relatives just to make sure everything was ok, and to make sure weather anyone happened to be there . Fortunately we had responds such as "….. I decided not to go at the last moment …. I left there just before it happened and so on." .One lad who works in a friend’s office as a tea boy , lives in a poor area with a majority of Shias ,was telling my friend, that just the night before, his sister made such a fuss in order to go . He and his father were firm not to let her . The thing is her child has leukemia , they are mostly taking care of him at home , of course they’ve been to doctors but , well there is no need to digress here at all . So , she said that she had a dream the night before, where her child was asking to take him to visit Al Kadhim , naturally she took this as a sign . She cried and ranted and begged, but the men were unyielding ,so she decided to go alone with her baby – "He is calling us, it is a call, we have to answer , the baby will recover if we go"- She was late getting out of the house and the tragedy happened .
When the woman’s brother and father and husband told her how lucky she was for not going after all she replied carrying her ailing baby and sulking “ May be my son would have been cured now had I managed to go .. it is my fault … “ . I think no further comments are required .

2005-08-31T09:32:00.000-07:00

31/8/2005

The March of martyrs

Yesterday, when groups of people were marching towards the holy shrine of Al kadhim, preparing for the upcoming anniversary , everyone who saw them had a secret punch in there hearts and a low voice ,which they tried too push to the back of their heads that whispered : “ something is going to happen” .
So, to say that it was a surprise will not be accurate at all . Yet, the weapon was unexpected : “ Fear” .

An estimated million visitors marched today to commemorate the Death of -Imam Al kadhim- . There was a mortar attack around 8:30 or 9:00 this morning on the holy shrine . The flow of people did not slow or lessen. It carried on as expected . But each and every one of those millions was thinking and fearing an attack of some kind . So all they needed was a shout uttered on the “ A’ima bridge” to cause a stampede. Some jumped into the river Tigris , others were crashed under terrified feet ,the rest fell off the bridge when a railing collapsed due the pressure of scrambling people . Reports are estimating 640 deaths and it is expected to rise. The images coming out are very painful . Reports of about 50 people being poisoned are confirmed now after initially being denied . My friend phoned this morning at about 11:30 she told me that casualties are being brought to the hospital in pick up trucks, she said - they have suffocated perhaps from the crowd, not the usual wounds- . The reports from the bridge had not come out yet. Later I was not able to get through to her and I understood the whole story from the news .

People are blaming the government for the lack of experience in controlling the crowds in such events , officials are accusing each other and demanding each other’s resign .

The people as usual are dealing with the crisis better than the officials, the anniversary went on and visitors kept going to their destination , after all the shrine of Imam AL Kadhim is the place where muslim go to sink their sorrows and seek justice and comfort, for he is the Imam "Guardian" of the opressed and the unfortunate.

2005-08-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

24/8/2005

Plenty of Blasts and street fights again …

The constitution business.. what about It? I’ve almost lost track on what is actually going on behind those doors . I waited in anticipation till 12 o'clock the other night and after not a very amusing show they delayed it again and again .
I read the draft... better than the earlier draft, but still it looks like the members are complementing each other in places and teasing each other in other places .
Islam is the main source of legislation … you are free to choose bla bla bla but not to contradict with this and that . .. Not much difference. I was naively anticipating much more.

The streets of Most Iraqi cities are controlled and ruled by the militias and even the government acknowledges that fact now . But this is not normal and it nearly led to confrontation again.
A crisis (between Muqtada Al Sadr and Badr brigade ) that had been brewing for the two last weeks came to it’s natural climax last week and resulted in :
-“Burning down the house”- a very familiar script . But as the situation swelled it eased suddenly .
Muqtada is playing things differently from last year , he spoke very calmly and wisely and asked his supporters to just let it go .
Every one including Muqtada himself and his rivals are fully aware of the support he has among “Les Miserables” .

The poor and the abandoned see him as a Robin Hood in an “Imama” (the turban clergy men ware ) . The deprived who live on the margin of society in regions infamous with crime ,crowded houses and the absence of services caused by decades of deliberate neglect during the reign of Saddam .
The people there have been struggling for survival and coping with all sorts of discrimination in the Iraqi society.
Muqtada’s most zealous supporters are from those areas in Baghdad.
Why do they love him ? Well, first of all due to the reputation of his father and uncle, who were both promenant clergymen murdered By Saddam in the most beastly way . Also because Muqtada is a genuine Arab unlike Al Hakeem (Commander of Badir Brigade ,whose rates are falling dramatically in the Iraq street ) and Al Sistani (Persian roots involved here ), who look condescendingly to the poor semi illiterate population of the gutter .
Muqtada- the Martyr’s son ,the Arab and the compassionate young leader is a guy you can talk to as an equal- that is how he is perceived by the street Kids .Lately even the Sunnis are talking in his favor .
While most intellectual Shias and Sunnis and Americans may I add see him as a fanatic and a power seeker who is using the love of the masses to his father, and who is involved in the murder of an enlightened clergy man ( Al Khouii) three years ago.
However Muqtada showed tolerance and self restrain last week . thank God for that one- a problem less-.

Wednesday three car bombs exploded in Hay Al Jameaa (a residential and commercial Area)in a street known for stores of all sorts and Doctor clinics… etc
After three explosions gun fights broke out between men in masks and police men. The police men managed to kill six of the others , yet I didn’t catch how many policemen were killed .

That was one incident the other one was mysterious a bit . My friend lives in Al Khadraa Area, she phoned me Thursday morning and told me that a horrific blast tore the quite afternoon in her neighborhood the day before: windows broke and the neighbors all ran out like mad each one of them thinking that it was his house that was hit . She told me the bang was so loud that all of them were finding difficulty hearing for the first 15 minutes . When they came out they saw that a house, a big house was flattened to the ground, the family inside could not be found they were all burned to ashes .There was eight of them in there: two brothers , their wives and children . Neighbors were trying to figure out what had actually happened , the adjacent houses were left partially damaged too . after an hour or two my friend said they understood that dynamite sticks were planted all around the house and Bang !!! gone with the wind .. Why them? Nobody knows. What could it be? … they were a normal Family, not officials, not merchants, not activists of some sort , neither do they work with the Americans, which is the first thing to take into consideration when any body is killed . The only things that the neighbors came up with was that they were Shia , but that is not the case of course since other Shia families live there too . It could be some religious based assassination it is a common thing lately, but the method is new and terrifying .

Yes, Minister.

In the previous blog I wrote about the petrol Saga .Well Bahr Al Ulum Junior the wonder kid went back to the old method . What did we say at the first place ??
And what is so funny or sad rather is that they announced it on one of the many TV channels as an achievement .
He caused it and now he is solving it , well done in both cases . That reminds me of Saddam’s decisions , let me remember how did they use to call them- wise inspired genius decisions- ….. Lets invade this country Hurrrray ( the crowds jump up and down ,up and down .. ) …. Naaaaaaa lets liberate this country from ourselves, lets withdraw heroically ( the crowds jump up and down ,up and down .. )

The drunk dust man

I really like observing people more than politicians and political analysts that have suddenly sprung out of the blue . Where do they all come from ?, or a better form of the same question what did they use to do in the era of Saddam when there was no need for analyzing anything .
Also how can you tell some one what is the problem with the constitution for instance ,how can you analyze that ???. You get a flower and pluck it’s petals saying : approved it , approved it not .
Ah… to hell with this whole situation . What about people who don’t make the news…
One character really popping out of one of Nikolai Gogol’s stories is a garbage collector ,whose line of duty is near our office. He is always drunk. He goes about his business scattering the garbage as he pleases rather than collecting it quietly and rarely talks to anyone at all .
A neighbor in the building where I work is a very merry soul , that always tries to convert anything possible into a joke . When he pops around to say hello there is always something to laugh about . He came in last week and asked us if we are going to vote against or in favor of the constitution .
- I am going to vote against of course, and I demand that all of you do the same. I am even campaigning for that , he said.
– Oh really, Ok, we love you so we’ll do as you say , but we are not that much , sorry your case is lost .
After chatting for a while he went with one of my colleagues to grab something to eat when they returned they were giggling like school girls . Whats up? I asked
- He got hold of …. you know him the drunk garbage collector , and he told him to go and vote against the constitution, the garbage collector was silent like the sphinx as usual , he kept persuading the poor drunk and following him around and then he said to him: do you know that there is a special item in the constitution regarding alcohol , the garbage collector stopped and threw the empty cans he was collecting : what did you say ? he squealed
-Yes it is exactly as I tell you they are going to ban alcohol and prosecute any one who drinks and if they catch you drinking they’ll hang you where you stand right on top of your garbage heap .
- What! that’s not fair -the garbage collector screamed - the sons of the ….. the bastards the pimps the sods and he fell in a outrageous tantrum .
- Yeh you go and vote against them.
- I will, Oh I will, and I’ll tell my friends to do so too . Fancy them bastards sitting in their 1000 dollars suits , but do they do something for poor hard working men like me? NO , why should they .
I felt sorry for him- … you know that was cruel ,what kind of sadistic game is that .I said.
- No that is how you campaign you find the key for a person and then you use it against him, or as a motivation . Do you know how many garbage collectors he known/ .
- Do you ?
- No , many I suspect.

Young Jesus.

Thursday I was left home alone , all my folks went out for tea at a relative’s house . I stayed watching TV . I don’t know what goes on while I am out kneeling on the grinding stone . Who comes visiting, where do they keep the flour or rise cans , where do they get this or that commodity from, .. non of my business .
A kid rang the bell and told me that he brought the gas tube we requested . Ok fine, if you say so , I gave him the money, and pulled the heavy tube . He was about 10 or 12 years old and was pushing a primitive iron cart with about 6 tubes . He looked so familiar I’ve seen him somewhere . Skinny , very dark complexion burnt by the sun , huge black eyes … a yes, I remember seeing him as a tiny tiny child about 5 years ago playing around and helping his mum when she delivered bread to houses .
– Hey haven’t seen you around for a while , in what grade are you now? . Your name is Issa ( Jesus) isn’t it .
- Yes that’s me , I dropped out of school 3 years ago, I was in the third grade .
- Why Issa ? didn’t you do well , didn’t you like it ? .
- No , I was alright ,but Life demands .
- Are you still living in your old place ( a square empty piece of land between houses, where they built a few bricks to form a hut).
- No, the owner came so we moved to another place in the same area though, not far from hear, you used to walk to work pass us but not any more .
- Yes I work in a different place now.
Life demands , wise words from a ten year old . I watched him in his rugs and torn sandals drag his Cross .. I mean his gas tube cart, hitting it’s handle with a metal stick making a jingle as he walked through the streets of Jerusalem .

2005-08-20T11:05:00.000-07:00

14/8/2005

At last Salary !!! Halleluiah.
Ohhhh.. I love money I really really love money .

The Boss of All Bosses shamelessly delayed paying us for two weeks.
- No cash people you will just have to wait . Well, it was Ok with us, kept us from spending it after a few days anyway , actually it is quite a good idea to save our salary for us.
He handed us our ludicrous salaries and was all smiles we thanked him too.

I wanted so badly to go to Al Mutanabi Street. Haven’t been there for 2 years now. Kept on delaying it . When ever I decide to go something happens and stops me. Besides you can only find good bargains on Fridays. Yet, on a Friday there are always postponed duties .
Also I only enjoy going there with someone else .

The family ?.. out of question everyone wants to lay about . So it has to be friends. Twice I arranged to go with a friend and each time something came up. And also coincidently explosions took place somewhere near so everyone declared that we were so lucky we did not go after all.
It got absurd : me begging every Thursday for someone to go with me.
We have an adorable old man where I work . He heard me once thinking loudly about my inaccessible dream , so he offered to take a list of the books I want and fetch them , “I haven’t’ been there for ages too” he said.
He went one Friday and came back empty handed the next day. He said there were very few people in spite of being a Friday and the books are not what they used to be, mostly religious books and not very serious types he remarked.
When I was there last time I couldn’t make up my mind between (Mind Parasites) by Colin Wilson and (Sttepenwolf) By Herman Hesse. I took Colin Wilson, and as it often happens with addicts like me, after reading Colin Wilson I started craving for Hesse.
- No Hesse My old colleague said .
- Didn’t they offer to get it for you sometime later they usually do that, I asked hopefully .
- No, it has changed over there you know.
That is really hard for me . That street is the place I will always carry with me where ever I go . Thousands of book set on pavements it is the book junkie’s paradise . Sacks torn open and books tumbling down like an avalanche in the middle of the alley : “Please help yourself 250 Dinars per book , don’t waste the chance ” .
- Do you have any thing by Hemingway ?
- Er…..hmmmm , no but may be Abbas over there has … Hey Abbas Hemingway ( the last syllable pronounced as “why” not “way”) for the dears over here ….
- What? Kafka sure; Franz Kafka how could we live without him , pessimistic stuff real pessimistic stuff.
The great thing is that the sellers actually read everything they sell, so sometimes they actually advise you on what to take or what may be of use to you . Some of them are ex professors selling there libraries or seekers of profit that acquired education from selling all those books and listening to all the literature discussions held under their noses .
Months and Months of good Fridays spend in that street.
Another thing is that it is so quite there; like an out doors library, all those people and making no noise in comparison with other places involving trade.
And now it has changed they tell me . I don’t think so, I don’t want to believe so . I will not go there until everything is back to normal and if things don’t go back to Normal …. Al Mutanabi Street will be preserved inside me as it was .

15/8/2005
Clashed near Baghdad International Fair today . Rumors of a car comb in the area of the Jordanian embassy.

The Birth of the Constitution is difficult, convulsions but no sign of the Baby yet. The Americans are present to assist with a cesarean if labor doesn’t result in anything of use.

16/5/2005

Er….. sorry I guess !!!

25 workers were killed on a roof of some building in AL Alawi area .
There is a vital garage in that area , and lots of very cheap lodging places, when I say cheap I mean really cheap. Poor workers usually spend nights there for as little money as possible and they go about the capitol during the day looking for jobs (builders mainly) . Their wages are small so these places are suitable .
People from there said, that the workers were sleeping on the roof because ; Yeh , no electricity and they were about to fold their mattresses when they were spotted by an air craft that opened fire on them.. . Suspicious movements they thought ….
The other version was that these 25 workers were walking around the streets of the area in the wee hours of the hellish hot morning in spite of the curfew so .. so the rest as they say is history…. . the mistake was admitted by the Americans .

17/8/2005
Al Nahdha garage suicide attacks , a horrible massacre . One explosion: people were killed , other people gathered : another explosion to catch the rest ,then a car followed the injured to the hospital and exploded near the gate to finish the job .
I think this is the first one of it’s kind . Carried out with such hate .Three bombings to kill , “exactly” to kill and make sure no one of the victims got away .
Rumors suggest that the government had information about this attack in particular . A very high ranking officer is threatening to disclose evidence according to which the government had information beforehand but for some mysterious reason did not take action.

AL Sader - Remember Saed Muqtada - is threatening to carry out a general strike in the cities of Iraq protesting the deterioration or rather the absence of services .
A smart Arabic journalist asked an Iraqi writer in an interview I watched -Why are people leaving the important event of the constitution and discussing services .In other words why are your people so shallow, your people are soooo third world , they should be celebrating freedom and instead they are moaning about services .
I do not think any one, including the Iraqi government itself realizes the state of services , the states that our streets have reached too. Maybe they think we have always lived like this .
This reminds me of a situation my Friend told me about just after the war ended .They held their first meeting with an official that came from abroad . My friend is a doctor and she said that the official was babbling about freedom and democracy , so after exchanging usual pleasantries the doctors demanded a raise, cause their salaries were pathetic. The look of culture was wiped off the official’s face and he roared - well what did Saddam use to give you 5000 Iraqi Dinars and you use to jump up and down for him when ever he snapped his fingers, now you are receiving much more and complaining about it too .

I think the explanation is that these nouveau politicians think that we should be grateful no matter what .

18/8/2005

One step forward two steps backwards

Gun shots over petrol again .A brilliant decision by the Minister of Oil, you know him Bahr al Ulum Junior the wonder kid .The petrol problem sort of normalized recently. But the decree came : All vehicles with new numbers (so called manifest numbers locally) may get petrol according to the -even numbers and odd numbers system like before- , Next all old cars may get their need of petrol . So now there are long long queues and gun shots on the day of old cars .He did not think there were so much old cars around , well of course how would he know that stupid me .

The Mobalization of the Whole Country!

A fellow that works with us came the other day with such a tragic expression of loss on his face that I decided someone has died from his close ones . I t turned out that his cell phone better known to the masses as the mobile had been stolen.
He loves his mobile, he even borrowed money to buy it . We all reproached him when he got it at the first place, it cost him about 400 $ , he certainly did not need such a posh one, any one would do. He used to just sit for hours fiddling with it’s buttons , playing appalling tunes, showing us dim-witted jokes he usually received from his mates, interrupting any conversation to show us a new feature he discovered .
He used to evaluate people according to their mobiles . - He is cool he has a “Dub” …. she is cheap she has a “Tabooga Nokia” …. he is a big bird he has a Hammer with a camera too .
It is not a rare view to see policemen, salesmen, employees in offices and Ministries holding their phones showing each other what they posses , and the ritual of hanging a phone on one’s belt - I don’t think any other nation shares us with this one-. Even the word mobile has become and Arabic word and is subjects to laws of Arabic grammar ( mobailak for the male singular , mobailich for the female singular , mobailkum plural etc). . I really don’t get this obsession , what does a cell phone tell about you anyway , why should a person feel so proud of his phone . True it was forbidden in Saddam era . People joke that Saddam disserves death penalty for preventing Iraqis from satellite TV , Cell phones and free e mail accounts .
I agree that this disease is a ‘psychological form of compensation' . But it is time to move on mobiles are old news now. . .
- May God grant you comfort we said laughing as we shook his hands compassionately … may God compensate you with another good mobile … it is always sad to loose someone or thing dear but life goes on, buy a cheap one next time OK.
- I will and I’ll hang it around my neck they’ll have to cut my throat to get it this time.
- Wise decision, good idea, wise decision, we all said in one agreeing voice .

2005-08-13T09:26:00.000-07:00

8/8/2005
The high light of this week was the wrath of nature .The orange dust that engulfed the surroundings , well there weren’t much to see in the surroundings at the first place anyway. Outside it looked like a negative picture being developed or like a scene from the Bible. One good thing although: no car bombs in Baghdad that day .In other words everything natural is good and everything good is natural ! One episode really brought tears to my inflamed eyes . We were sitting in a car waiting for the traffic to move , police men wore surgical masks , only God knows where they came from all at once, these masks were meant to be filters, some people were wetting pieces of clothe and putting them on their noses for a better effect ,and from the car window I saw a very weak and apparently suffering stray dog, it was zigzagging as if it were drunk or playing a role of a dog that has been shot, then he fond a filthy puddle of water and he started to rinse his snout in the puddle and then elevated his head and inhaled , and again till he got his breath back . do I hear the audience say aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!.

The palms of Samawa say…..
“ an Iraqi old song ”

Demonstrations in Samawa had an impact on the whole society because of opening fire on demonstrators who came with very reasonable and totally comprehensible demands . It was a disappointment. It shows how far we still are from democracy. But in my case and in the case of my friends there is an appendix to it . Samawa was believed to be the thing that the rest of the country should look up too ( according to rumors of course).
Since there were no riots and it has been relatively quite there -till now- people were circling rumors according to which, everything is perfect there in comparison with the rest . No one could penetrate that ideal town everything is impeccable. And all that is because … why do you think ?? well yes elementary dear Watson, because the Japs are in control. They are so cute and polite, they are even cleaning the town for the natives , providing them with electricity, water, services, even work!!! They are going to turn the place in to a second Tokyo in no time because they know what war is, they suffered from the Americans too, they are oriental, they respect other nation's culture, not like these hapless Americans and Brits. Well every one knows that we are a nation with a very fertile imagination. Any how, when the demonstration and the regrettable incidents erupted dreams were shattered and hopes were assassinated…. what no Tokyo ? no shieks going to Japan? no Japanese cars distributed by ration cards? no Sushi served at every street bend ? …. Who was spreading these rumors any way ? don’t they know that to break a heart is a cruel thing to do .

10/8/2005
A disastrous car bombing took place this afternoon at about 1:40 in Al Ghazaliya area near a market leaving 8 people dead and many others injured . A whole sector of houses were damaged in different ways . A young man who used to sell newspapers and cokes was killed.His face was familiar in the area.His name was Raed . He was not standing in the scolding sun selling newspapers out of a good life. He was obviously struggling to earn a crust of bread honestly and he was struggling to the last moment thats for sure . A newspaper boy … no day of national morn, no book to commemorate him , no Obituaries in the newspapers he used to sell , no mosques praying for his soul in loud speakers , no church bells tolling, just his poor family mourning him…..

2005-08-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

It was a cruel cruel summer .......

30/8/2005

Last week was completely disastrous speaking service and security wise , the electricity is deteriorating with every hour , and it is even resulting in putting people out of business . Our local shop owner was getting bags of rotten hamburgers and chicken drumsticks out of his freezer since the generator could not catch up with the pressure. He was telling me that carpenters and welders are suffering just the same .
I popped by an internet café “closed for maintenance” they said and so on .
in AL Iskan Area sewerages wastes are flowing freely on the streets no one even can dare to pop his noses out of a car window .
And people are going on an on about it every where from TV screens to radio stations, a frustrated woman said with fury on one radio program the other day : I live behind al Jafari’s house and the power does not go out for a second there .
Al Jafari on the other hand was full of confidence two days ago announcing that Iran , Syria, Turkey are going to provide us with extra Mega watts of power he said and I qoute : the electricity has always been one of my priorities !!!!
I think this last summer has vanquished the last shred of optimism people had left.

1/8/2005

King Fahad is dead , long live the King

Now lets see: Yser Arafat, Shiekh Zaid, Rfeeq Al Harirri , King Fahad, before them Hafez al Asad , king Hussein
Hossni Mubarak still on the Run , Saddam Hussein Hanging on a thread and Muamer Qadafi obove all odds still there … when you got to go you just got to go .

An Oasis in the desert

When you listen and some times even look at some of the fanatic clergy men they show these day you really can easily fall into a well of despair .
Stating the obvious , repeating platitudes and insinuating that they and whom they represent are actually -although you may not notice it- the chosen ones .
But suddenly amidst the bazaar of shouting traders comes the moderate voice of Ayad Jamal Al Deen .
I really could not believe my ears when I watched his interview on Al Hura the other day, here is a clergy man and yes a Shii calling for freedom and a secular government to safeguard religion from the harm resulting from dragging it through the dark and ambiguous allays of politics . Also he demonstrated sound understanding of the role Iran is trying to play in Iraq .
Sitting comfortably smiling in his chair looking pleasant and agreeable, he opposes so sharply other roaring clergy men who are surrounding themselves with a halo of divinity.
He does not have to yell but his words are so loud and clear, he is a man of peace and love who has no problemn in visiting churches to celebrate Christmas , admits that Europe is a haven which Muslims aim to in order to escape their tyrannical rulers and that true Islam can only be practiced under governments who respect human rights .
He also expressed an opinion stating that Al Sistani is actually harming the political process by supporting this or that list and that the Sunnis should take an active part in politics for the sake of the rest. In other words he is not taking any side but the side of freedom , he said “ they who manage to recognize truth in spite of beliefs imposed by tradition and society are usually the ones who manage eventually to change the world to the better “
Ameen !!!

2005-07-31T09:20:00.000-07:00

Reasons to be more frustrated in Iraq (as if there weren’t enough already )

28/7/2005

- The extreme deterioration of services and the absolute absence of security in the streets of Iraq is really taking it’s toll on the patient and long suffering Iraqis .
The assassination of three members of the constitution committee sent various but quite disappointing messages to Iraqis anticipating democracy. All that in addition to:-

-Including Furs ( Persians ) as a main nationality in the draft of the Iraqi constitution, what is that supposed to mean anyway!!! In what part of Iraq do these “Furs” live? why didn’t we know of them till now ???

- Al Jafari’s visit to the grave of Khumaini in Iran hurt a lot of feelings out there. Many wounds of the Iraq-Iran war have not yet healed , of course we all want to move on and leave agonizing memories behind us and we also know that the Iranian people were just as unfortunate as we were, but that does not mean that their leader should visit Saddam wherever he is locked up if he decides to drop by for a cup or (a Stikan) of tea someday.
Every and each Iraqi family has horrid memories of that gloomy period , An invalid here, a mentally handicapped ex POW there, not mentioning those who just vanished without further information and left tragedies behind them .
Many will say that Saddam is the one and only one to blame for that war , but still visiting Khumaini’s grave was not necessary, what was he exactly thanking him for ??? I think he should think of complementing his own people instead of his neighbors.

-Another reason for despair is the constant insisting on converting Iraq to an Islamic Republic .
The whole War according to conspiracy theories was to stop the ambitious expansion of Iran and to disrupt exporting the Islamic Revolution by unleashing Saddam (being as initiative and prepared to please the west as he was back then) to do that job for the World. As a result millions were killed from both sides but the mission was actually accomplished. Khumeni was stalled by the Angel of death’s arrival before finishing what he had started and he pronounced his lethal words having to sign the seize fire document “ by Allah it is like having to drink poison”, So why is his legacy still living? why is there a strive to throw Iraq into the cold embrace of Iran and form such a republic . The suggestion of ( the Islamic Federal Republic of Iraq ) is rather confusing .

- The attempt to pass law 137 (meaning the cancel of Personal Law) is really becoming a topic everywhere .
It is acceptable for women to die, to work and hold the country together while men were getting killed , to get abducted, tormented, raped but they are still not considered equal .Equal in duties but not in rights.
The new forming gap between Sunnis and Shies is likely to widen if that law is passed, because there are differences in the interpretation of many aspects of Sharia. But since the law has been one for both sides till now, no one really cared about it when it came to marriage for instance .You knew that your rights would be preserved anyway by the law if it came to divorce or inheritance . Thus it is more than natural to find in one family a Sunni and a Shii.
If this law is passed it will be a matter to consider, how can you marry some one who has different conventions ruling marriage and inheritance? you will have to convert . It means emphasizing differences that no one actually sensed before.

-The other frustrating issue: is that all Iraqis are seeing the concern of other governments when it comes to compensating victims of terror attacks .But in Iraq these things just pass by unmentioned. If Iraqis have already lost hope in their government shouldn’t some one else take care of that ? why shouldn’t some of the really capable and wealthy Iraqis take this humanitarian mission into their hands . Compensating a family that lost everything with a reasonable sum to start again can not be that difficult .

-And the last thing , why is it when freedom or democracy is mentioned these two words are synonymous to immorality ,decadence and depravity :
We must maintain our Arabic and Islamic values and principals they say! who said the opposite, the natural question arises , freedom of choice and will is the pedestal of Islam. Why should we fear to be free that much ?

20/7/2005

2005-07-25T21:25:00.000-07:00

Dead Iraqis Society

20/7/2005

Two days ago another car exploded at the entrance of the same center for volunteering near Al Muthana Airport.May be this is the seventh time it happens .
I mean come on lightning does not actually strike twice the same place! , something here just does not fit .
Any moron could solve this dilemma, either you move the flaming center from there , or the volunteers stop going there … Great ,We are getting somewhere here …
Not considering the first solution is provoking all kinds of conspiracy theories in the Iraqi cafés and shops , people are swearing by the almighty Allah that the Americans are deliberately assembling Iraqi males there to get rid of them bit by bit , well we really can’t do much about that can we ? …
The second possible solution is that the Iraqis just have to stop going there.
By the way, why do they keep going on and on and on , why do they insist on living? why do they just keep going to enlist to death .
Well ladies and Gents because they don’t have much of a choice !. I t is the center for enlisting after all, and every single one of these poor people uses this logical formula each and every morning : There is a probability law ain’t there ? … so may be I’ll get blasted away to the other world today or I may not … but if I stay here hanging around there is only one probability : I will starve , so its of to the interview with the soul reaper .

And that is how we are all living here : by the LAW OF PROBABILITY.

The manual on how to get killed in Iraq

It was another frantic day in Baghdad and Musaiab .
Before danger used to come only from one source . If some one got killed, kidnapped, tortured the answer to the question “who did it ? “ could only be one : SADDAM AND HIS MERRY MEN . Yet, how many Mini SADDAMS are wandering round the wrecks with blood stained hands and blood dripping fangs at the present ? only God knows .
The streets of Baghdad today are a freaky place.
Death comes from :
- Reckless or panicking US soldiers who want to get through the bloody streets as fast as their wheels can Go so you could easily get crashed or shot ,
- Or street gangs who are stripping some poor devil from his hard earned car,
- Or a political group that has some home work to do before elections and needs badly to remove some thorns from the stem of the power flower,
- Or revenge actions against ex-hang men, or religious clashes between the traditional rivals.
- Or fanatic Islamic human bombs who are exported to us with the complements of our loving neighbors.
- And last but not least Military operations , in which you are no necessarily an active participant , (Refer to the latest Oxford study on civilian casualties in Iraq).

In addition to all the above mentioned : no electricity well nearly , some times no water ( if available usually polluted) and no jobs which means consequently more trouble on the streets.

-Mary Antwanette : Why are those People angry Monsieur ???
-Because they are starving they don’t have enough bread your Majesty.
-Mary Antwanette : But Why don’t they eat cake instead !!!

For the past few days the electricity has been a bitch . I’ve been blowing my head off with fits of frustration and despair and vows to …. Do nothing and just shut up as I always have .
Even the well informed on every issue Oprah opened her mouth wide when an Iraqi woman told her in her talk show that electricity is still a tragedy in Iraq .
The heat reached 52 degrees it’s just like a wing in hell, all the other surroundings are there too , you know lots of demons , misery and pain …
After a wretched night I woke up as though I’ve been run down by a train. I took a blistering hot shower and went to the crummy office I work in consoling myself that the Generator will compensate me , yet alas the Generator Dude said that he had it on all night so we’ll just have to put up with his unfair resolution to keep it off “ besides there is no Gas” . We sat in a sauna like atmosphere me and my two mates gazing in one another’s eyes stupefied with our impotency to change the world , then M.. went and brought us canes of coke we gulped them instantaneously ,it didn’t help , when our eyes finally started to look suspiciously insane The Boss of all Bosses told us generously that we may leave an hour earlier !
Hurray… but what hurray , when I got home after a walk reminding me of that part when Peter O’tool and Omar Sharief walked through the desert in “Lawrence of Arabia” I reached home and I had to bang my fist blue on the scalding door to be heard. I went in and found it even hotter . In the living room His Dad’s Ship was sitting in front of the tube watching some relaxed “not hot” guy…what Dad he is the Minister of Electricity …oh I see . You know those times when some one makes a statement that you really I mean really don’t need to hear something that is ridiculously inappropriate . like asking some one in Iraq the unforgivable question : How was your Day? … well that is what happened with that Minister chap they ask him about the flaming electricity and he asked the Iraqi people to economize with it !!! he said use fans, why don’t you use fans? if all Iraqis use fans there would be no problem at allllllllll . His Dad’s ship reacted very calmly to that exasperating remark and continued drinking his hot hot Iraqi tea sitting under a slow slow fan operating on a loud loud street generator and finally said : But electricity is a necessity for us not a luxury you twat ... another sip of tea . ….

Next stop Rawa

Today military operations started in Rawa , what will they lead to still not clear …

We only live twice !!!

Watched a film about the last day in Nikolai Chauchesko’s life . I remember that day well. But honestly I’ve heard that history repeats itself but to that extent ! amazing !!
Yesterday they released footages of Saddam’s interrogation hearings and this time his voice was clear , he is still living on a planet of his own. His exact words were : I do not recognize this court, who appointed you …
The exact words of Chauchesko were : I do not recognize this court who appointed you .

......
London was alarmed by Gun shots today, five shots they said I repeat five.
I love London such a quite place, downtown Baghdad five bombs/day is acceptable …. quite acceptable.
Thank God it was not like the last attack, only one man was injured.

22/7/2005

A holocaust poem
First they came for the Jews, I did not care because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists, I did not care because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, I did not care because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me and there was no one left to care for me.
A friend of mine told me that he is in despair cause his hair is getting to long and he is starting to resemble a made street tramp , but the trouble is that his favorite barber got killed a week or two ago.
Another friend told me that her hairdresser is cutting only her trustworthy costumers hair at home after receiving an unambiguous death threat , so she had to close her beauty salon …
Well what will happen will they all close down ? Hairdressers: yes, since all women should cover up , but barbers are allowed to cut strictly with accordance to certain hair regulations imposed by the assaulters . Of course some barber shops and hairdressers have been attacked or burned down . And the police … zero attention , zero action .
CD shops, hairdressers what next schools, colleges , grocery shops …… people are just abiding with these rules.
It takes a whole nation to stand against terror , but who has the time , so many other things to do !

WOMEN GO HOME “ It used to be Yankees go home in the olden days! “

The first time in my life and may be it is also the first time in women’s movements history that women held up banners where the following slogan appeared : NO TO EMANCIPATION. I repeat: the banners were carried by women .that all took place in a demonstration held in reply to a previous demonstration where women protested against regulation No. 137.

23/7/2005

No war is far enough….

Egypt was attacked today, casualties immense , till now 88 deaths and more to come. Most and I emphasize most Arabs think that this is cool, you know resisting the invaders by killing more civilians, well really I don’t see the link

If I cripple a country and sow fear in order to lock people in their homes and deprive them their chances to earn money honestly then my message is delivered… victory ... that means that God and his prophets have absolutely nothing to do with all this : it is just a battle for the ultimate state of control …
The mistakes of shortsighted politicians led to such tragedies. America and some Arab governments empowered these terrorists to do their dirty work outside their territories , but monsters often turn against their creators …